


The Pirate Captain's Wedding

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bargaining, Canon-era AU, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Lust, M/M, Masturbation, Matelotage, Mutual Pining, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Pining, Public Sex, Season 1, Season 2, Sharing a Bed, Whipping, canon era violence, mentions of Miranda & Flint's relationship, pirate weddings, punishment kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Once he has his hands on the thief Flint is willing to do whatever it takes to get the page from him. And then Billy & Gates say marriage is the only solution left on the table.Or rather matelotage – the time honored pirate form of matrimony. Billy says it’s the only way to regain the crew’s trust, by marrying one of them, and Gates agrees. For once Flint’s desperate enough to agree to it.He never expects to actually fall in love with the little shit.Cover art made by @ellel





	The Pirate Captain's Wedding

 

 

Flint stood in the open doorway of the cottage, his hand hesitating on the handle. From his expression Miranda knew she wouldn’t particularly like whatever he had to say. It hadn’t been that long since Richard Guthrie had been there and hence departed, leaving a strained feeling in the air between them. As weary as she got of the loneliness that permeated her small isolated corner of the island, there were times it was definitely preferable to the unrest Flint always left in his wake.

 _James_ , she thought. He was still James, though there were times she most certainly thought of him as Flint. It was easier in some ways.

“What is it this time?” Miranda asked softly.

“I know I just left Richard Guthrie for you to watch without any warning. I knew I should have…” Flint bit his lip and she resisted the urge to go to him, to press her hands to his chest and soothe him, like she often did, like she often had in the past. She kept her hands carefully curved around her teacup and then set it aside.

“Who is it you want me to guard this time then?” She asked, unable to keep the wry note from her tone.

Flint simply turned his head without speaking, looking outside. She rose and went to stand beside him, following his gaze.

Outside the cottage, Billy was unloading their prisoner from the wagon.  This time, the prisoner in question was a young man with curly dark hair and a cautious, slightly wounded expression. Most likely a sailor off some ship who had somehow gotten mixed up in this whole damned mess. Miranda wondered if he even knew what he had gotten himself into, or would it be too late before he had that realization.

She sighed, folding her arms against her breast. “And why are you leaving this one here with me?”

Flint leaned in close. “He has valuable information, Miranda. Information vital to finding the Urca. I can’t take him with me right now, and I can’t leave him in town in case he escaped or someone else gets wind of what he knows.” His eyes pleaded with her to accept this, but she knew that he intended to leave the man here whether she willed it or not.

She looked again at the young man, this time taking in the shackles around his wrists. His gaze met hers with open curiosity. Clearly he knew as little as she did about this entire situation. For some reason that felt almost endearing. They were here in this same boat with Flint leaving them adrift.

Miranda sighed. “Very well, if you must.”

Flint kissed her forehead swiftly and she stepped aside as he nodded at Billy to bring the prisoner up.

“Does he have to wear those?” Miranda looked in distaste at the chains on Silver’s wrists as Billy prodded the man past her with a muttered “Ma’rm.”

“Believe me, it’ll be better if they stay on.” Flint’s tone was low, but clearly irate and she wondered just what exactly had transpired between him and the young man thus far to cause such a reaction.

Billy fastened the shackles to the post in the kitchen and passed the key to Flint.

Flint hesitated, weighing it in his hand for a moment, and Miranda didn’t miss the way Silver watched his face. There was an uneasiness to his expression, the careful weighing of Flint’s motions that suggested the young sailor was perfectly aware of who held his fate in his hands.

Flint turned to her. “If I give this to you, will you give me your word that you won’t let him go?”

Miranda raised her eyebrows. “Do you even have to ask that?” Surely at this point, after everything, he already knew the answer to that.

Flint gave a breath of a smile as he leaned in to kiss her again. “I know you too well, that’s the trouble.”

She couldn’t help smiling back at that.

 

*  *  *

 

Miranda was aware of the young man sitting in the corner as she made a new pot of tea. He was right there after all. It was difficult to ignore him, and at last she gave up trying.

She turned to regard him, her arms folded across her bodice as she weighed the possibilities of the situation that they found themselves in here. “He didn’t tell me your name.”

“That could be because he didn’t want you to know it.” The young man murmured.

“Or because he didn’t consider it particularly important.” Miranda countered.

It brought a wry smile to the sailor’s face. “John Silver.”

“Well, then, John Silver, I need some help in the garden.”

“I thought you gave him your word you wouldn’t let me go.” Silver gazed at her thoughtfully.

“I’m not letting you go. I’m merely putting you to work.” Miranda reached for the chain that unlocked the larger chain from the post, leaving him only in his wrist shackles. ”Besides, I have the feeling that you’re clever enough to know that if you ran away now, he would only hunt you down and find you.” She gazed at him with steady eyes. “Would you really want to that happen?”

“Not particularly.” Silver agreed. He rose to his feet easily. “Lead the way.”

 

*  *  *

 

Out in the garden Miranda gave him a trowel, and instructed him to work on weeding around the tomatoes while she worked a little ways away.

“What is it with everyone and vegetables?” Silver muttered under his breath.

“They keep you healthier for one thing.” Miranda commented. “Which is useful whether you’re aboard a pirate ship or the streets of London.”

Silver let out a snort and she raised an eyebrow.

He offered a slight shrug of apology. “Sorry, but forgive me if I don’t think you know much about the streets of London.” He hesitated and then leaned forward, resting his hand on his knee as he spoke. “And forgive me again, but I still don’t know your name either.”

“My name is Miranda. Miranda Barlow.” She said, and then after a moment, followed it up with, “You’re right. I am not overly familiar with the streets of London. London society however, is another matter, and, like poorly cooked vegetables, is often rather terrible, whether you’re in a sitting room or an alley.” She gazed off into the distance and Silver watched her expression.

“How did you come to be here on the island anyway?”

Miranda paused. She looked down at the fresh earth beneath her fingertips, the warm sunlight upon her neck. She thought of how much she needed a refreshing cup of tea. “It’s a long story.”

Silver gave a little laugh, that for some reason amused her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Miranda smiled. “It’s not only my story to tell.” She informed him. “But I came here with Captain Flint to… find some peace, in a manner of speaking.” She fell silent again.

“You and Flint.” Silver murmured curiously.

Miranda paused. “What do you make of that?”

There was a short silence where Silver studied the garden around them and then finally looked back at her. “I think yours is a very rare relationship.” Silver said. “One that I’m fairly sure I’ll never know the full truth of.”

That was most likely true, Miranda thought. Even as well as she knew Flint, and the man beneath the coat that he chose to wear in Nassau, there were times he was still a stranger to her. These days when he came to her it was almost as though he saw it as a duty and not because he needed her or wanted her.

“How did you come to know Flint?” She asked.

Silver sighed and sat back. He brought his wrists up to brush his hair impatiently out of his eyes, the shackles clinking faintly with the motion. “I took something that he was pursuing, and as a result I now have to make sure he considers me useful enough to keep me alive.”

“I see.”

“In the process, I seem to have irritated him.”

“I can see how that would happen.” Miranda murmured.

Silver laughed, his hair falling over his face all over again.

“And the streets of London?” Miranda asked, still curious. “Is that where you’re from?”

“It’s been a very long time since I lived in London.” Silver said.

“Are you happier now that you’ve left it?”

Silver sat back and contemplated that. “Happier? Are you?”

“No.” Miranda said. It was the first time she had uttered such a truth so honestly in a long time. It felt invigorating, like she was shouting at the sky.

Silver waited, clearly curious.

“Things are complex.” Miranda paused. “I’m not sure happiness is…” _Possible_. _Feasible_. _A thing I can even hope for_. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I need a moment.”

Silver looked at her closely, and then he got up.

Miranda sat there, wondering if she should stop him from whatever it was he was about to do. But all he did was go over to the well and bring up a fresh bucket of water. He put the dipper in the bucket and brought up a scoop of water. Taking care not to spill, he brought it back to her.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” Miranda accepted the dipper from him. The water was cold and refreshing. She drank a little more. “I needed that.”

Silver just nodded. He reached for the trowel again.

She searched her words carefully. “Happiness would be a gift at this point. I think I could be content again, I think there could be true purpose, and meaningful pursuits and even, possibly, moments of joy.” She paused. “But happiness, true happiness, that was mine once, and I doubt it will ever be again.”

She kept working steadily, not looking at Silver and was grateful when he made no response.

 

*  *  *

 

They worked a good portion of the afternoon and for once the neighboring children didn’t intrude. At last she bade Silver to put aside the tools and wash his hands and face at the well before leading him back inside.

“Come in and sit down. I’ll make us some tea.” She nodded at the table, where finally Silver sat and watched her while she made more tea.

The shackles moved faintly as he reached for the cup she had poured for him.

“Sorry.” Silver grimaced slightly.

“Why do you suppose he considers those necessary?” Miranda had an idea of James’s motivations, obviously, but she wanted to hear Silver’s thoughts on the matter.

Silver shrugged. “I imagine he considers it a deterrent to trying to escape in case I decide this deal isn’t worth it.”

“Would you consider that?”

“Possibly, if I decide my life won’t be worth much once I surrender the information Flint desires from me.”

Silver tapped his fingers on the table restlessly and the shackles continued to rattle until at last Miranda couldn’t bear it anymore. She rose and went to fetch the key where she had placed it in the drawer in her desk.

Silver raised his eyes as she unlocked them, but all he said was a quiet ‘thank you’ and continued to drink his tea and look around the cottage with curious eyes.

After that they shared a simple meal together of fresh bread and fish, and fruit and afterwards Miranda showed Silver to the front room where she sat and reached for her knitting, though it didn’t quite hold her attention tonight. Instead she watched Silver stroll around the cottage, examining it. Rather as a cat would, she observed.

“He leaves you here all alone.” Silver murmured as he looked around the room. “Doesn’t that get trying?”

“It’s not the being alone part that is trying.” Miranda reflected. “It’s the loneliness.” They were two separate things. She enjoyed being alone. Peace and quiet were still very welcome after the horrors that London had visited upon them.

But the loneliness, that was something else. Here, there was no one for when the mood for company struck her. The nearest neighbors sometimes spoke to her civilly enough, but their opinions tended to shift like the wind upon the shore. And though she had never told Flint this, it was always worse after one of his visits.

“Do you play?” She asked, watching Silver study the instrument that stood in the corner.

“Alas, no.” He shook his head, and looked as though he were about to say something else, but instead he turned the conversation back upon her. “I presume you do.”

“Yes. When the mood strikes me.”

“Does the mood strike you tonight?” Silver asked.

“You know, I think it does.” She rose to take her seat at the piano.

Silver sat there, listening to her play, and for a little while, Miranda felt not quite so lonely.

 

*  *  *

 

When it was time to retire for the night Miranda reluctantly fastened the shackles back around his wrists and returned him to the corner where Billy had first left him.

“I’m sorry, but I did give him my word.”

“I understand.” Silver’s fingers touched her wrist briefly and Miranda looked at him in surprise. “Thank you, for everything.”

There was genuine warmth in his eyes and Miranda found herself returning it in her smile. “You’re very welcome.”

She provided him with a blanket and then she dimmed the lamps and went up to bed.

 

*  *  *

 

Miranda lay there in the dark, thinking over the events of the day, how pleasant it was to have someone to converse with, even if neither of them had chosen to be there together. But Flint would return soon and take Silver away, and she would be alone again.

Miranda rolled over on her side with a sigh.

Things had to change. No matter what happened with the gold, no matter what the future held. She couldn’t go on like this. Flint had to understand that; she would make him understand that. Tomorrow was a new day and she intended to rise and welcome it and see what awaited her.

 

*  *  *

 

It was the next evening when Flint returned to the cottage. He had left Billy back at the ship since he planned to spend the night there and return with Silver the following morning.

On the porch he paused at the sound of voices. No, it was only one voice. Miranda’s. She was reading aloud to someone, probably one of her neighbor’s children. And then the words seeped through to his brain and he realized what she was reading aloud.

Flint flinched, white hot with fury at the idea that she could do this, that she _would_. With Silver of all men.

He pushed the door open abruptly and Miranda’s voice died away. Flint just looked at her, and then because he couldn’t resist, because he had to know what Silver was thinking, he looked over at him. Only to find Silver not looking at him at all; instead he was gazing at Miranda, his hand outstretched to touch hers.

“Get away from her.” Flint snarled before he could catch the words back.

Silver snatched his hand back as though he’d been burned. He stared up at Flint with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“James.” Miranda started and Flint simply turned and strode back out, away from the cloying air and Silver’s eyes.

She followed. “James, what are you doing? What was that about?”

“What am _I_ doing? What were _you_ doing?” He hissed, though his voice threatened to break with the next words he uttered. “How could you read that book to him, Miranda? How?”

“There was no need for you to react so.” She began.

Flint simply turned away from her. How could she not understand? How could she not see this as the betrayal that it was? He thought of Silver in the other room, listening to those words and his blood threatened to boil once more.

“Come inside then, when you’re ready.” Miranda said at last. She left him there on the porch and went in.

Flint stood there. He wanted to smash his fists through the wall. He wanted to take Silver by the throat and…

Instead he rested his hands on the railing and waited till the beating in his chest had slowed finally to a regular pace. When he could control the fury within him, he stepped back inside, and Silver looked up immediately.

Flint ignored him and strode down the hall. Miranda was already getting ready for bed and he closed the door, wishing he had left Silver back in town, or even aboard the ship, somewhere far away from this shell of a home they had carved out together. It had been a mistake to bring him here.

He undressed slowly and then blew out the candle as he slipped into bed beside her.

 

They were talking. From where he was shackled Silver leaned in as close as he could, pressing his ear to the wall. Yes, he could definitely hear their voices. Faint but there.

 "We could leave here, you know.” Miranda said.

"This was where Thomas intended us to make a new start.” Flint sounded resolute in the dark.

 “Thomas wanted us to have a life.” Miranda sounded a tad angrier now and Silver strained to hear better. “He didn’t want this existence, this pitiful excuse of a-”

 "Enough.” Flint hissed. “If you don’t care to stay here, perhaps you should leave.”

 There was a heavy silence. Silver’s own breath felt loud in the dark as he waited. Just when he thought they were done, Miranda spoke again.

“Perhaps I should.” Miranda answered finally. “Perhaps I will.”

 There was a pained quality to the darkness after that and no more words.

 Silver sat back and tried to make sense of it. Whatever they had argued about, or made a life of here together, it clearly had to do with this Thomas whoever he was.  A friend? A fellow exile?  Someone who would matter so much to both Flint and Miranda seemed important, but Silver had seen no other signs of another man in Miranda’s cottage, from the little he had seen. Whoever he was, they kept the memory locked within them both, keeping it safe.

 

 *  *  *

 

In the end they slept side by side, or rather they don’t sleep. Miranda’s breath was quiet, measured, almost calm. Yet Flint knew how angry she was, and part of him wanted to turn to her in the dark and explain. That he was doing all of this for that very purpose, that he had spoken out of fear and frustration. All the lies he’d told and machinations he’d put in motion and men he’d killed to reach this moment, to get the gold to reach their goal. To make a new life for them, to create a life bearable and possible and livable. All of this he wanted desperately to say to her, to reach for her and hold her.

But she had read aloud to Silver, let him hear those words in her voice and he couldn’t forgive her for that. Not tonight.

 

*  *  *

 

In the morning he went down the hall to the kitchen. Silver was huddled in the corner where he had been left the night before, still shackled. He lifted his head at the sound of Flint’s footsteps.

Flint gave him a brief look as he passed and apparently Silver took that as encouragement to speak.

“Whatever offense I seem to have caused-”

“Shut up.” Flint turned away to pour himself some tea.

“May I remind you that you’re the one who brought me here?” Silver finished carefully.

At that Flint whirled and grabbed for him, hauling him to his feet. “And let me remind you, you little fuck, that you are solely here because you refused to hand over the page.” His fingers dug into Silver’s skin. “Any time you want to rectify that, feel free to do so.”

Silver swallowed, “Surely even you can understand my reluctance to do that.”

Flint released him abruptly, causing Silver to fall backwards against the wall. “Whatever game you’re playing with Miranda, it won’t work.”

At that Silver blinked “What?”

“Your pathetic little attempts to win her to your side.” Flint sneered. “Don’t pretend that’s not what you’re doing here.”

Silver merely shook his head. “She seems lonely.” Was all he offered.

The words made Flint want to bash his head in, and he half started towards him again, causing Silver to shrink back, when he heard Miranda on the stairs.

He turned back to the tea, ignoring Silver as best as he could.

Miranda glanced from Flint to Silver, raising an eyebrow. When there was no response she asked. “Breakfast?”

“We need to get back to the ship.” Flint downed his tea.

“You’re taking him with you?” Miranda glanced at Silver questioningly. He half shrugged at her in response.

“I’m certainly not leaving him here.” Flint said bluntly, letting her think it’s because of the book. She didn’t need to know anything else about why he was bringing Silver along.

 

 *  *  *

 

Silver was silent on the journey back to the ship, even when Flint escorted him to the galley and left him there while he returned to his cabin. He needed a fucking drink after all that.

He’d barely poured himself a cup of rum before there was a discreet knock at the door and Gates entered, Billy close behind him.

“What is it now?” Flint growled. Could he not have a moment’s peace?

“Well…” Gates paused delicately. “The thing is… it’s about you, and Mrs. Barlow.”

Flint had known something was coming, but he had no idea it was something like this. This was not remotely what he’s prepared to deal with. They knew nothing about his relationship with Miranda and he certainly wasn’t going to tell them. He poured himself more rum and looked pointedly at the door.

"The crew doesn't like you having someone inland." Billy said at last. There was a pained look to his face as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here in Flint’s cabin having to speak about this right now.

"Fuck the crew." Flint shrugged dismissively.

Billy shrugged back. "Well, actually that's the idea."

"What?" He had to be hearing things. There was no way that Flint just heard him correctly. There wasn’t a fucking manjack of them that he’d be interested in, although Billy’s muscles _do_ do him credit. Flint allowed him that.

"We want you take a crew member in matelotage." Gates put in. “There’s been talk, and we think this would help.”

 _"What?"_ Flint said again, slightly louder this time in his incredulity. "Who among them is offering?" Who the fuck would dare to put themselves forward and situate themselves into his bed?

"Well, none of them." Gates said bluntly. “To be exact.”

Wait. None of them? Flint eyed both of them. “What are you saying then?”

“We’re saying _you_ should join with someone from the crew and we’ve found the perfect candidate.”

"The new cook." Billy said. 

"No." Flint protested immediately. His eyes slid to Billy in response.

"No." Billy said just as immediately.

"Why not?" Flint asked almost petulantly. He'd _rather_ take Billy if it came down to it, than that curly haired little shit.

Billy just looked at him. "You look at you and me, and you’d wonder who's doing the fucking, wouldn’t you?"

"That’s…" Flint objected to that comment on principle, but he saw what Billy was getting at. “Not the point.”

"Silver though. Nobody's going to think he's putting a leg over on you."

 "I'm not fucking him." Flint growled. And he still objected to the idea that anyone automatically knew _who_ was doing the fucking, but only because those shit-for brains pirates had no idea how good it actually felt to get fucked. He certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.

"You don't actually have to fuck him." Billy said. "Just let him sleep in your cabin for a while. that's all."

Even the thought of that annoyed Flint. Having someone in his space, invading his privacy like that was awful, just the thought of it was unbearable. And Silver? From what he’d seen of the young man, he’d be a nuisance at the least, and an insufferable presence at the most. No, he didn’t want to. Surely he could get the crew behind him again without resorting to tricks like this?

"Well, apart from the once." Gates murmured. They both looked at him.

"What?"

"The coupling, you know." Gates looked extremely uncomfortable, but at least he was maintaining eye contact. Flint gave him that.

"Ah.” Billy nodded, looking resolutely at the cabin floor. “Right.”

"What?" Flint stared at both of them. It was the only word he’d been saying but it still felt applicable every time.

"You fuck him just once in front of the crew and be done with it." Billy explained, finally looking at him. “That way we all know it’s…you know.”

“What?” Flint pressed dangerously, wanting him to say it, daring him to.

Billy swallowed tightly, his expression not wavering. “Consummated.”

“Why would I do this?” Flint demanded, his face darkening, What he really meant was why _Silver_? Of all the men aboard the Walrus, why him?

Billy simply faced him evenly, while Gates just stood back and let them war it out.

“You _want_ him to give up that page. You _don’_ t want us to torture it out him so getting him to think your intention is to keep him alive seems like a good first step. Plus this will have the bonus advantage of winning the crew back to you.”

“I don’t need him alive for very long.” Flint muttered sotto voce.

Billy just gave him a level stare until he rolled his eyes. “What? We don’t. Randall’s doing perfectly well.”

“Anyway.” Billy continued. “This is a good strategic move. It helps with winning the crew’s trust and your problem with the page with one act. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that?”

“Because I don’t want to fucking marry him.” Flint growled. It sounded ridiculous in concept and more ridiculous when he said it aloud. He wasn’t fucking doing it.

“So it’s purely Silver then, that you object to?” Billy raised an eyebrow. “Everything else that’s been thrown at us, and that’s the holdup?” He leaned forward. “I fucking lied to this whole crew for you. The least you could do is marry one of them, so that they trust you again. It doesn’t have to last.”

That got Flint’s attention. “What?”

“Marry him, get the gold, give it a few weeks at the most and then the two of you can go your separate ways. Nothing,” Billy leaned forward, resting the full weight of his arms upon Flint’s desk, “is permanent here. This is just a temporary situation to a very real problem.”

Billy abruptly fell silent and looked to Gates, who gave him an encouraging nod. “You’re doing fine, lad.”

Flint looked at the both of them, thinking over Billy’s words. “Temporary.” He repeated thoughtfully. The idea of that resonated with him. This didn’t have to last.  None of this had to last. It wasn’t a real marriage, not like…He shied away from their joined names even in his own mind. It wasn’t remotely the same.

“Exactly.” Billy said.

“No one’s suggesting you stay married to him.” Gates added like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Obviously.”

Flint sighed. “Fine. Go speak to him.”

Gates and Billy headed to the door, and then Billy turned back, giving him a look.

“Yes, what is it?” Flint inquired, his attention half on something else already.

“You hadn’t even thought, had you?” Billy asked.

Flint frowns. “What?”

“You’re so focused on not wanting him. What if he doesn’t want you?” Billy went out before Flint could give a response.

He gazed at the door long after his bosun has disappeared through it. The fuck did Billy mean by saying that? Of course Silver wouldn’t want this anymore than he did. But it was in his best interest, surely if he wanted to stay alive. Flint’s frown deepened.

But what if he wouldn’t agree to it? He’d just have to be made to.

 

 *  *  *

 

"I’m sorry, you want me to do _wh_ a _t?_ " Silver stared at the two men standing in front of him with the outlandish proposal he’d not entirely sure he just heard. Surely they were joking. No one in their right mind would suggest he and Flint make vows to each other, let alone, share a bed. Not after what had just happened.

He firmly wasn’t allowing himself to think about any of that, not the conversations with Miranda at the cottage, nor the way Flint had done his best to scare him into shutting him up, or the way Flint had pressed him into the wall, reminiscent of how he had caught Silver on the rocks and held that knife to his throat. Silver still had dreams about that night. They were definitely dreams, not exactly nightmares.

"Enter into matelotage with the captain and let him fuck you in front of the crew." Billy said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Silver closed his eyes. He _had_ heard correctly, and what’s worse, he wasn’t even imagining it. "And why would I even consider doing that?"

"Because you're only still alive by the captain’s good graces." Gates said stonily.

"Hardly, more like the skin of my teeth." Silver ran a quick hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe they were actually suggesting him. “Flint’s not gonna marry me; he’d just as soon kill me.”

“Well.” Gates said optimistically. “Plenty of marriages have a bit of a spark to them.”

Silver looked at him as though he were insane.

"You'd be entitled to a portion of his shares." Billy said offhandedly. 

Silver looked at him quickly. "Is that right?"

Gates looked at Billy just as quickly. “Billy.”

“What?” Billy shrugged. “It’s true.” He knew how much this bargain between the captain and the cook meant to them, and he knew Gates knew it too.

“And besides,” Billy added, “it’s just temporary.”

“Temporary.” Silver repeated, as though tempted closer by the promise of the word.

“Just temporary.” Billy said again. “None of this is meant to last.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Silver muttered. He looked again at the pair of them. “So why isn’t he here asking me?”

“What?” Gates looked confused.

“The captain wants my hand in marriage as it were, he can’t be bothered to ask me himself?”

“Now listen here, sweetcheeks.” Gates lifted a hand to point at him and Silver took a half step backwards. Though where he was going to run in the galley, which is where they’re holding this little tete-a-tete, Billy wasn’t too sure.

“Now, now.” Billy held up a placating hand. “Is that your price? The captain has to ask you in person?”

“One of them.” Silver said after a moment.

“And the other?” Billy waited semi-patiently for his answer while Gates just rolled his eyes.

Silver hesitated. “That’s for the captain’s ears alone, I’m afraid.”

Gates sighed. “It’s your funeral.”

“Very well.” Billy said. “Be in the captain’s cabin this evening, sharpish.”

“Just like that?”

“The captain is very busy man, Mr. Silver. He can’t spend all day on trivial matters.”

Silver just smiled blithely at him. “I think he’ll find time for this one.”

 

*  *  *

 

There was a rap at the door.

“Yes?” Flint asked without looking up. 

The door opened and there was the soft hesitant tread as Silver drew closer to the desk.

“I thought we should talk.”

“About?” Flint finally looked up, but kept his tone entirely dismissive. He was making time for this, since Billy had stressed the importance of it, but he wanted Silver to know that he didn’t consider it remotely important.  

At that Silver raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think we need to talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Flint shrugged. “If you accept the deal, you’ll give me the page, and you have my word that your safety will be assured until we claim the Urca. After which, you can either go wherever you desire with your share or, you can be assured of a place in this crew if that’s what you choose. It’s entirely that simple.”

“Right.” Silver said.  He hesitated a moment and Flint gestured him to a chair, irritated by his fidgeting.

Silver sat and waited, clearly still hesitating here.

Finally Flint looked at him and sighed. “Go on then. Talk.” He stalked over to where he had put his bottle of rum after his earlier conversation with Gates and Billy. He reached again for his tin cup. After a second, he grabbed the second, reserved usually for drinking with Gates, and brought that back to his desk as well.

 He poured them both a drink and shoved one at Silver. “I said talk, so talk, damn you.”

“I’m sorry, you’re asking me to marry you.”

Flint’s lips thinned at the word on his lips. “It’s not a true marriage.” He bit the words out with loathing. “You _do_ understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand you want me to let you fuck me in front of this entire crew to prove it’s a true marriage.” Silver retaliated. “And what do I get out of it?”

Flint stared at him. “Did you not hear a fucking thing I just said?”

“The gold is weeks away. In the meantime, what assurances do I get that you’ll even keep your word?”

“Assurances!” Flint barked out. He didn’t know whether to laugh or throw his drink at Silver’s head. “What the fuck do you want?”

Silver squirmed slightly in his seat. “Just something that makes me feel slightly like anything here could be trusted. That’s all.”

“I suppose you want me to suck your cock and swear eternal love to you.” Flint scoffed at him. He took a long drink.

“Well.” Silver said. “The first part sounds all right.”

Flint stopped and stared at him. “What?”

“You suggested it, not me.”

“You actually think I’m going to...” Heat bloomed in Flint’s gut at the prospect. He was _not_ sucking Silver’s cock.

God, it’d been forever since he touched another cock but his own. He wasn’t thinking of that, not thinking of how the first time Silver stepped aboard the ship, Flint couldn’t help but notice him. He had noticed him even more when he had gotten Silver pressed up against the rocks and realized the precautions Silver had taken to protect himself by burning the page. It had been infuriating to realize and yet Flint couldn’t help but admire his ingenuity even while he wanted to slit Silver’s throat.

Silver took a deep breath. “Prove it’s worth it to you.”

Flint’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“You want to fuck me? Suck my cock first.”

“You little fucking presumptuous shit.” Flint snarled, fists resting on his deck as he glared at Silver. “What gives you the right to-“

“Excuse me, I’m supposed to let you fuck me in front of the entire crew and just trust you won’t…” Silver stopped, his cheeks heating up.

“Won’t what?” Flint scowled at him.

Silver swallowed tightly, and looked away. “Won’t hurt me.”

The abrupt switch in his voice gave Flint pause. “I’m not doing this out of the desire to hurt you, Mister Silver. We’re here because we have a mutual desire to gain the Urca. If I wanted to merely _hurt_ you.” He leaned forward, letting Silver gaze up at him apprehensively. “I could have had Joji get the page out of you by now. Remember that.”

Silver looked away. “Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I just think it’d be fair for you to give me something in return. That’s all.”

Flint just glared at him and then, with incredibly poor grace, “Fine.”

It was Silver’s turn to stare at him incredulously. “What?” Flint hadn’t really just agreed, did he?

“You want your cock sucked, fine.” Flint said. “Get up. Lean against the desk.”

Silver obeyed hesitantly, unsure of what was happening. Even though he had suggested this, clearly Flint had all the power here and he wasn’t going to let Silver forget it.

“Take your breeches down.” Flint commanded.

Slowly Silver did, pushing them down to his thighs.

“Those too.” Flint jerked his head at his smallclothes. Now that he was determined to do this, he was impatient for it to be over.

Silver did, a faint flush staining his cheeks.

  _What did he have to blush over?_ Flint wondered.

There was certainly nothing for Silver to be embarrassed about regarding his cock.  Flint grudgingly accepted that, even though he didn’t say it aloud. Silver’s cock was as annoyingly appealing as the rest of him, a good size and length and simply there for the taking, jutting out from a nest of dark curls.

Flint reached out a hand to stroke his length and Silver drew in a breath.

“You _have_ had your cock sucked before?” Flint eyed him.

“Yes.” Silver said. “Though, not by a man who wanted to cut my throat only hours before.”

Flint grinned in spite of himself. He enjoyed surprising people, and so he enjoyed the look in Silver’s eyes as he went to his knees there in his own cabin. He gripped Silver’s thighs, pressing him back against the desk as he spread them further.

He had almost forgotten this, the sheer pleasure of it, the lust of it overwhelming him. His fingers dug tightly into Silver’s thighs, holding him there, exactly where he wanted. The scent of Silver nearly drove him wild. The first taste of him, the weight of him on his tongue made Flint’s eyes close almost as though he were in a trance.

The groan Silver uttered drew him back to his senses and he glanced upward. That itself was a trap, the sight above mesmerizing him instantly. Silver’s head was thrown back, his hands gripping the desk tightly. His lips were parted, but only barely like he was doing his best to hold his noise back, but still failing as another soft moan passed them.

Flint took him deeper, burying his nose in the dark curls at Silver’s groin. He closed his eyes again, letting himself just drift free of all moorings, letting the taste and feel of Silver wash over him like the sea on a bright bold day.

“Flint.” Silver choked out his name and it was all the warning he had.

He gripped Silver even harder, swallowing all of it, until Silver’s cock was still. Finally Flint sat back, feeling slightly dazed, and then he looked up.

Silver’s breathing was shallow and slowly he straightened up. He looked as dazed as Flint felt. He stared down at Flint with an expression that if Flint didn’t know any better he would think it was awe, or even wonder.

It made him strike out cruelly. “I thought you said you’d had your cock sucked before.”

To his intense embarrassment Silver flushed down to his chest. “I…yes.” He recovered quickly, stretching with the litheness of a sated cat. “If you fuck as well as you suck, captain, this won’t be all terrible.”

“Get out.” Flint wiped his mouth. “Just get the fuck out.”

Silver pulled up his breeches and headed for the door, only to pause there. “So I take it the wedding’s on then?”

Flint threw the first thing he saw at Silver’s head, which he missed, and the tin cup clattered to the floor.

As soon as Silver had left, he placed his hands on the desk and stared blindly at the surface. What the fuck had he just done? Why had he ever agreed to this? He couldn’t marry Silver. He couldn’t _fuck_ Silver. He couldn’t go through with this farce.

He licked his lips and it just brought back the taste of him. Flint groaned, wiping at his mouth again with his hand. He felt sick.

 

*  *  *

 

That had gone far better than Silver had dreamed of. He hadn’t actually expected Flint to go through with it. It had been more of a bargaining chip than anything else.

But Flint _had_ , and he had been _good._ Silver’s body still tingled pleasantly with the aftereffects. He was fairly sure there were fingermarks on his thighs from where Flint held him down, and just the thought of that made him half hard again then and there.

He went up on deck and stared at the waves. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a disaster after all. He closed his eyes, breathing in the salt air.

_I thought you said you’d had your cock sucked before._

Flint’s words still made him feel hot all over, both in embarrassment and in lust. Of course he had had his cock sucked, but those back alley sucks had been nothing compared to the ferocity and hunger that Flint had shown in those few moments. Silver couldn’t help wondering. What would he be like if there was true desire involved?

 

*  *  *

 

Once the wedding plans were underway Flint found there was no escape aboard the ship. He had told Gates and Billy just to “arrange it, however the fuck they wanted’ which apparently meant garlands everyfuckingwhere and casks of ale being brought aboard. The crew looked more cheerful on the whole, so Flint assumed that was a good thing.

This was so much effort to just reach the Urca, but Flint was determined to uphold his part of the bargain. For now at least Silver did his best to keep out of the way by sticking to the galley. A small relief but Flint would take it. Whenever he looked at Silver now, he couldn’t help remembering the taste of him, coupled with the betrayal of Miranda reading to him. The combination made him queasy, eager to avoid the entire subject.  Once the matter of the wedding was done, things would get back to normal and they would pursue the gold as before.

 

 *  *  *

 

On the night before his wedding Flint felt himself drawing out the smallest acts to make the evening last. Charting the course over and over, going over the supply lists, even reading and rereading a chapter in the book he was currently reading until he could put off tomorrow no longer and then finally he started tell himself it was time to turn in. But the dread continued to gather in his gut, the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring and he stayed at his desk, unable to move.

There was a brisk rap at his door and he started, ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt his privacy.

“Thought you could use a drink.” Gates held up a bottle and Flint felt his shoulders shrug in acceptance, though he was privately relieved at staving off the sleepless dark a while longer.

“What took you so long?”

Gates gave him a mock stare. “I’ve had my hands full, you know, arranging a wedding.”

Flint sighed, watching him pour out two generous glasses of rum. “Don’t remind me.”

“Remember what Billy said, it’s temporary.”

“At the moment it seems like a life sentence in hell.” Flint reached for his cup and downed half of it, letting it burn.

Gates raised an eyebrow. “Now, now, I wouldn’t say the lad was that bad.”

Flint chortled. “Your defense of his character is noted.” He downed the rest and held out the glass.

“Well, his character may be a tad on the dubious side,” Gates conceded, “But I was speaking more of his appearances as it were. You must admit he’s got a pretty face on him.”

“You don’t have to tell me he’s pretty; I can see he’s pretty.” Flint retorted and then blinked. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. He’d meant to say… _don’t try to convince me, don’t try to sell him to me_. But instead that was what had come out of his mouth. _I can see he’s pretty._ Nevermind that it was the truth. He didn’t want it to have ever been uttered, not on his tongue, not issued from his lips.

Gates shrugged and took a sip of his own rum. “All I’m saying, there’s no reason you have to make this worse than it is.”

Flint leaned back in his chair. “I don’t have to like it either.”

“Always were a difficult bastard.” Gates took another drink of rum.

Flint grinned, all teeth and sharp lips, but no real menace for once. Gates was pretty much only the man aboard his ship that he called a true friend. Flint appreciated him coming to his cabin tonight .

“It’s merely…” Flint gazed at his glass, reflecting upon the nature of truth and the familiarity of lies. “I never thought to be wedded at all.”

“It’s not something a man comes to lightly.” Gates agreed. “I once knew a girl back in Dover and well…”  He raised his hands expansively. “I wasn’t ready, but she didn’t want to wait and she married a merchant who would take her to live in London and she didn’t have to worry about when he’d return from the sea.”

“To returning from the sea.” Flint raised his glass and they drank.

“To your impending nuptials.” Gates said next.

Slowly Flint raised his glass and drank.

 

*  *  *

 

On the morning of his wedding, Flint woke with a curious feeling in his stomach. He lay there in his bed, watching the sunlight through the open window, trying to ascertain what it was. And then once he had realized it, it took a moment to accept it for what it was. Anticipation. Not dread or, fear, or even disgust. Sheer anticipation, like before a fight or discovering a new chart unfurling before his eyes.

He rose nude from his bed and went over to the basin where he poured water into it and splashed it over his face, hoping it would quench the feeling, but it did nothing.

With a sigh, Flint started getting dressed.

 

*  *  *

 

“Just act natural and say your vows and.” Billy paused, giving Silver a sharp look. “Are you all right?”

“Vows.” Silver repeated in a subdued tone. He was looking decidedly off.

Billy sighed. “You’re not going to vomit, are you?” That would put everyone right off the ceremony. He’d seen a wedding once where the groom had vomited right in the middle of the ceremony. It hadn’t been pleasant. He caught Gates’s eye, seeing if he looked worried and Gates simply shook his head.

“No-o.” Silver muttered. “It’s just, it seems so formal all of a sudden and here we are…I mean, when it comes down to it, I hardly know the captain.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best.” Gates said jovially. “It’ll make things all the more exciting on your wedding night.”

At that Silver gave him a panicked look. Billy made a quick slashing motion against his throat and Gates immediately changed tactics, remembering they were trying to sell Silver on this being a temporary venture.

“It’s just a business venture, remember? A business venture,” Gates smiled widely, “but with a party.”

“Right.” Silver straightened his jacket again and nodded. “Right.”

“Now, let’s get you out there.”

“Is this going to work?” Gates mouthed at Billy who just shrugged as they followed Silver out to where the rest of the crew was already gathered on deck waiting.

 

*  *  *

 

In traditional land weddings the bride, as it were, waited by the officiant. At sea the rules were different. Gates took his place on the quarterdeck where the ceremony was to take place while Billy escorted Silver to the door of the captain’s cabin where he rapped quickly on it.

It opened and Flint stepped out. Silver tried not to gape at him, and nearly failed. Flint was wearing the same clothes he always wore, but he looked particularly fine in his freshly brushed coat and breeches this morning, his hair neatly combed into a slick queue, the collar of his shirt crisp and white. Silver’s gaze went to his mouth and then quickly away. The memory of Flint kneeling between his thighs made his skin tingle uncomfortably.

“Are you ready for this?” Flint asked quietly as Billy walked out first and the crew started cheering.

“Yes,” Silver answered, and then muttered something too quick for Flint to make it out amongst the noise.       

 

                                                                                                                                                      *  *  *                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                 

“What?” Flint mouthed underneath the roar of the crowd as they started walking towards the quarterdeck. It grew louder, and the sweat gathered along the back of Flint’s neck.

“What?” Silver said back, not really looking at him. Billy was hushing the crew and the sound receded only a little as they approached the quarterdeck.

“You look like you’re going to be guillotined, not married.” It wasn’t his place to reassure Silver, but all of a sudden he felt as though he should at least try.

“…will it hurt?” Silver asked very quietly as they mounted the quarterdeck. Billy was making some opening remarks. Silver couldn’t focus on them.

“Will what hurt?” Flint asked automatically, looking out over the crew gathered on deck. And then Silver’s words sank in.

“What?” He glanced quickly back at Silver who wouldn’t meet his gaze.  “You’ve never…” He was dumbfounded. “What the fuck were you doing to agree to this?”

“Well, it made sense, didn’t it?” Silver’s shoulders hunched. “You need the page. I wanted a share of the gold. I wanted to stay _alive_. It just…” He licked his lips. “Leastwise when Billy explained it, it made sense.”

Flint was going to fucking murder Billy for putting him in this position. He certainly wasn’t going to fuck Silver in front of the whole damn crew, not when he’d never been fucked before. He started to open his mouth to tell Silver exactly this when the crew started cheering louder again at whatever Billy had been saying and Gates waved his hands to get them to settle down.

“Come on then, settle down.” Gates said. “We are gathered here today on this auspicious occasion to join our captain and our junior cook together.”

Flint forced a smile and looked at Silver who somehow was doing a lot better smiling than him. In fact Silver looked like he was having the time of his life. If he hadn’t blurted out that simple question, ‘ _Will it hurt?_ ’ Flint would have thought he was enjoying this.

All during the ceremony he watched Silver and Silver was _good._ He kept up the mask in the end. Flint couldn’t take it, couldn’t anyone else see how panicky Silver was, how was he going to be able to go through with this and still smile like a goddamn fool?

He reached over and took Silver’s hand, holding it tightly in his.

Silver glanced down in surprise and then back up at him. Flint kept his face impassive, and eventually Silver returned his gaze to Mr. Gates. His fingers curled hesitantly around Flint’s.

They got through the vows somehow, Flint brusque and monotonous, Silver quick and sure.

“I now pronounce you…” Gates paused to scratch his bald head, like he hadn’t really thought this part through.

“Get on with it.” Flint mouthed at him. He didn’t fucking care what they were pronounced. He just wanted to get this whole shitstorm over with.

Gates sighed and at last, “I now pronounce you wedded.” He nodded at them. “You may now kiss.”

Flint blinked. He’d forgotten about this in light of the thinking about the whole matter of  the fucking. He turned and clasped the back of Silver’s neck, tilting his face up so he could brush his lips quickly across Silver’s mouth.

“Oi, captain, you could do better than that.” someone called out and Flint felt his composure slipping. He started to pull away and Silver simply reached out and caught his wrist, his lips urging Flint to stay there.

“Come on, hold it together.” Silver murmured softly against his mouth. “Nearly done.”

Except for the fucking.

Flint started to say something and instead slid his tongue inside Silver’s mouth. His fingers tightened on the back of Silver’s neck, holding him there in return as the kiss lengthened. He felt his body shifting, leaning in towards Silver in spite of himself. Silver’s tongue slid against his own, stirring his interest. The warmth there, the soft slide of it, the gentle pressure all reminded Flint that it had been too long.

When they finally pulled away the crew was whooping it up and Silver’s lips were reddened, his eyes half-closed.

Flint felt the urge to just keep kissing, to see where that led them, what would make Silver fall apart under his fingertips. Instead he pulled further away. That was not why they were here, definitely not why he was doing this.

“And now,” Gates looked around at the expectant crew, “the consummation.”

Flint winced at the deafening roar of the crew. He shot a look at Silver who couldn’t hide the nervousness he felt for a moment and then it was gone, replaced by that wide bright smile once again.

The crew rolled a large barrelhead over on its side, right in front of them. Silver looked at it warily and then at Flint.

“Take your breeches down and bend over.” Flint said, not looking at him. Billy had brought over some oil and held it out, his eyes moving between the two of them questioningly.

Flint just swiped his fingers through the oil and turned back, only to be confronted with the sight of Silver doing as he’d said and leaning over that barrelhead. His backside was bare and pale in the bright morning sunlight. Flint was mesmerized. Silver was willing to let him do this, in front of all the men, simply to confirm the bargain between them and he could just take it as easy as that. He could have him so easily.

He slid his slicked fingers between Silver’s cheeks, pressing inside him, trying not to shiver at Silver’s intake of breath, the sudden tension there in his body. Instinctively Flint slid his left hand around Silver’s shoulders, holding him still as he eased him open. Silver shuddered as his fingers pressed inside, stretching him. Flint’s palm spread flat against his chest, just holding him. Then he pulled his fingers free and reached for his own breeches.

He was going to do this. He was going to make this binding. He was going to do his part. He looked down at Silver’s body before him, still tense in spite of Flint’s preparation. Flint hesitated as he drew his cock out.

Could he do this?

“Get on with it!” Yelled someone from the crew and Flint wanted to kill them, whoever they were.

 At the last moment Flint reached down to whisper in Silver’s ear. “Press your thighs together.”

“What?” Silver turned his head, half rising.

Flint nudged him back down over the barrel, positioning himself. He pulled Silver’s shirt all the way loose from his breeches, letting it fall over his thighs, effectively covering him.

For a moment Silver thought ‘this was really happening.’ Flint was truly going to fuck him. His whole body was tensed in anticipation and nerves.

“Close your thighs.” Flint hissed raggedly and Silver did, as his cock slid between them.

He jerked with surprise at the realization of what Flint was doing and the pirates roared in encouragement. Flint rocked his hips, gripping Silver as he moved in a quick, steady rhythm, his breath harsh on Silver’s neck.

“Slow it down, captain!” one of them called.

“Make him enjoy it at least.”

“No, keep it fast! He likes it!”

They all started calling out advice and comments. Silver felt Flint’s tension mounting, but he was so aware, so unexpectedly aware of the heat between his legs. It felt so good and there was none of the pain that had he expected. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have Flint for real. His cock had already hardening ever since Flint’s first thrust, but now it swelled even more.

He pushed back against Flint. “More.”

Flint’s grip on him stilled in surprise, so Silver did it again. “More.” He said louder and the pirates cheered.

“Told you he likes it!” “Give it to him, captain!” “Go on!”

“What’re you doing?” Flint leaned in to mutter, his cock sliding heatedly between Silver’s sweat-slicked thighs, causing him to moan, not at all intentionally this time.

“Helping.” Silver murmured back and turned his head to catch Flint’s mouth in a messy kiss, tongue and teeth and raw lust.

Flint’s lips froze in surprise as Silver angled their mouths together. Then he drew back, shifting slightly and Silver groaned as his cock again came into contact with the barrel head. He squeezed even tighter around Flint, making him grunt.

“I need, _fuck_ , I need to come.” Silver groaned. “I’m going to.”

The crowd’s roar faded to a dull hum in his ears. All he could hear was Flint’s harsh panting, the rasp of his breeches against his bare backside, the heat of his cock, their bodies pressed so close, and yet not as close as Silver suddenly found himself wanting to be. His body surrendered helplessly, hips twitching as he came, spilling over the barrel, clenching tightly around Flint.

Flint gasped and almost reflexively, his body joined Silver’s, spilling all the way down Silver’s thighs and he slumped over Silver’s back.

For a moment Silver thought this was it, someone would see, one of them would guess. And then Flint eased from him so quickly, so no one else would see. The pirates moved in, cheering and congratulating the both of them. Flint’s smile was more of a grimace, but for once the men didn’t seem to care.

They clapped Silver roundly on the shoulder. “You’ll bring a smile to his lips yet!” They told him cheekily.

Silver just grinned at them all, his hair tousled and cheeks flushed as he tried to pull up his breeches.

“Break out the rum!” Billy called. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

 

*  *  *

 

Flint led the way to his cabin and closed the door after Silver entered. The noise of the crowd receded again once they were alone. His shoulders sank in relief, leaning back against the door, his eyes closing. It was done.

“Thank fuck, that’s over.” He breathed.

Flint felt the weight of Silver’s gaze even with his eyes closed and his back turned. Slowly he turned, opening them. “What?” Silver was looking at him like he didn’t know what to make of him.

“Why did you do that?”

Flint ignored him and straightened up to make his way over to a chest against the wall. He opened it and drew out a bandana. Carrying it over to a basin he wet the cloth hurriedly. Undoing his breeches, he cleaned his cock off with a quick brush of the cloth.

Silver watched without saying anything and then. “Why though?”

“ _Why_ did you ask me if it would hurt?” Flint snarled. The rage rose up again, hot in his veins. He wanted nothing to do with this whole fucking mess.

Silver flinched. “I…I told you once I have a very low tolerance for pain.”

Flint glanced at him. He wanted to say _it doesn’t have to be like that_ , that it _shouldn’t_ be like that, but he couldn’t find the words. Admitting he knew exactly how it should be like felt like a trap. He couldn’t tell a thing like that to Silver, it carried too much intimacy and intimacy was the last thing he wanted with Silver.

Instead he merely tucked himself away, before tossing the cloth at Silver who caught it automatically.

“Clean yourself up, we have to go out there and drink with the crew to celebrate.”

“At least I know how to pretend how to have a good time.” Silver muttered, wiping his cock clean.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Flint asked, voice low and dangerous.

Silver shrugged and tossed the cloth back to him. Flint caught it automatically, crumpling it in his fist.

“It means you could at least pretend.” Silver looked exasperated. “This was your idea, remember. You and your men. I didn’t come begging for your hand in marriage, remember.”

Flint just frowned at him, his eyes narrowing. “Now, look here.” He started across the room towards Silver, menace in every heavy step of his boot.

“What?” Silver stood his ground. It was true. He hadn’t chosen this; he’d agreed to it yes, but it wouldn’t work if Flint didn’t make an effort.

Flint just growled and shoved him up against the door hard, feeling Silver’s back contact with the heavy wood. Silver swallowed tightly, aware that it wouldn’t take much for Flint to change his mind and simply cut his throat. At the back of his mind he still kept expecting that. Even if Flint had promised him, made assurances as it were, the aspect of death still lingered in the air. There was no safety here.

Flint leaned in, moving so close to Silver so that Silver’s heart began to race, and he dropped his mouth to Silver’s throat, set his teeth against taut flesh. Silver gasped as Flint sucked hard, his mouth harsh on Silver’s skin, and his hands pressed so tightly on either side of Silver’s head, holding him in place. At last Flint drew off and studied his neck critically.

He brushed his thumb over the mark he had left. “There.” He said, and then leaned in menacingly. “Don’t act like you’re the only one invested here.”

Silver swallowed. “Understood.” His neck stung and he wanted to raise his fingers to touch where Flint had marked him but he didn’t dare.

Flint stepped back. “Now. Are you ready?”

“What about you?” Silver dared ask, gazing at Flint’s skin speculatively. It was only fair.

Flint stared at him incredulously, then, curtly, “Save it for another day.”

He jerked the door open and gestured for Silver to step out. “After you.”

Silver did, feeling a little dazed as the cheers grew louder again.

 

*  *  *

                                                                     

The rest of the marital celebrations passed in a blur.

After drinking a few rounds with the crew Flint held off to one side, mostly talking with Gates, occasionally joined by Billy.  He watched Silver as he drifted among the crew, drinking with the men companionably, letting them congratulate him, a few of them commenting on the mark on his neck.

“Who knew Flint had it in him, eh?” Muldoon said almost enviously.

Silver grinned at that. He gaze went to Flint who happened to catch his eye just then. They gazed at each other across the length of the deck and then abruptly Flint looked away.

“Cheer up.” Gates tipped his bottle back. “The crew likes him.”

Flint scoffed. “Of course they like him. He’s doing his best to charm them, he’s winning them over on purpose.” It was absolutely the smart move to make, but it didn’t mean he didn’t despise Silver all the same.

Gates raised an eyebrow. “How is that not exactly what we wanted him to do?”

Flint just sighed and ignored him.

 

*  *  *

 

Eventually Silver made his way up to the quarterdeck where now Flint sat alone (Gates had left to get more drink and been drawn into a conversation with DeGroot), one leg drawn up against the railing, a cup of rum balanced on his knee. Silver threw himself onto the pile of sacking beside him, with a cheeky grin.

“The men seem pleased.” Silver said after a moment when Flint had made no comment.

“They’re drunk.” Flint responded.

Silver shrugged. “Does it matter why they’re pleased, as long as they’re pleased?”

Flint glanced at him. “What about you? Are you pleased?” He wasn’t what he expected Silver to say in response to that.

Silver looked surprised at the question. “It seems to be going well so far, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s been less than a day.” Flint said. “Give it a week and we’ll see.” He didn’t expect much of this arrangement, to be honest, just to make his managing of the crew a little easier is all.

Silver’s head lolled back as he stared at the sky overhead. “The stars are out.”

Flint looked over at the quiet murmur about the stars. Silver was just lying there, looking up at the sky, his head thrown back, neck exposed. Flint could see the mark he had left there, as vividly sucked into Silver’s skin as though it had truly been done truly in lust.

“They are.” Flint said at last. What else was there to say to that? _The stars are out, the night is dark, your eyes are very very blue._

Silver glanced up at him and smiled and Flint hastily downed the rest of his drink and didn’t say anything more. He hadn’t married Silver for the way his eyes looked by starlight.

 

*  *  *

 

It wasn’t till late that they were allowed to retire to the cabin. The men were finally heading towards sleep, sleeping wherever they fancied up on deck, too drunk to make their way down below deck to their hammocks.

Once they were back in the cabin with the door closed, Flint breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. Now it was truly done. Tomorrow they could move forward and put this whole thing behind them. They would get the gold and then they would go their separate ways.

He started moving towards his chest, pulling wearily at his coat.

“Out of curiosity, where exactly am I supposed to sleep?”

Fuck, Flint had meant to get a hammock and hang it up in the corner. He couldn’t do it now, everyone would see. Tomorrow he’d get Billy to sneak one in. For tonight though, he supposed he could let Silver sleep in the cupboard bed with him.

“Over there.” He nodded curtly to the bed along the wall. The doors were already thrown open, the bed made up and ready.

Silver glanced at it and then slowly back at Flint. “With you?”

Flint bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “We _are_ married now, after all.”

Silver grimaced faintly. “Don’t remind me.” His hand drifted down towards his backside, as though remembering.

Flint bit back the question, ‘does it hurt?’ He had meant to be gentle, or at least not too rough with his thrusts, even though he hadn’t been inside Silver. But the way Silver had responded, the way he had moaned before when Flint had sucked his cock, had somehow made Flint forget all those careful plans. He had simply given in and fucked him, well, fucked his thighs anyway.

His cock throbbed faintly, remembering the heat of Silver encompassing it. What would it be like to actually fuck him? He couldn’t believe he was thinking of that, especially after what Silver had told him, but how was he thinking of it at all? He was appalled with himself.

“Get in and go to sleep.”

Silver raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me to go to bed?”

“Yes.” Flint said wearily.

He expected Silver to argue, but instead Silver shrugged and started undressing.

Silver stripped down to his drawers and left his clothes in a pile in a corner. He went over to the cupboard bed and slid all the way across the mattress, giving Flint an excellent view of his backside as he does.

Flint went to sit at his desk. If he could just sit there until Silver was asleep perhaps, perhaps he could get through this night.

After a moment Silver asked quietly. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Eventually.” Flint poured himself a final drink of rum. He drank it down in one swift gulp before also undressing. Unlike Silver he left his shirt on too.

He dimmed the lantern and went over to the bed. Silver was lying on his back, gazing up at him.

Flint looked down at him, thinking about how different this was all meant to be. This should have been with someone he wanted, not someone he had to take. It wasn’t fucking _fair_. If this were a real wedding night, he would be able to lean over and let his hand drift over Silver’s cheek, cupping it and drawing him in for a kiss. His tongue would slide into Silver’s mouth, Silver’s tongue melding sweetly with his own, and then he would simply roll atop Silver and…

Flint blinked.

None of that was going to happen. Silver’d never even fucked a man and earlier, even the kiss that had felt so real, especially the kiss, that had all been for show. They had a bargain to keep and Flint wasn’t going to be the reason it failed.

He climbed in and rolled over on his side with his back to Silver, keeping as much space between them as possible.

There was a barely repressed sigh and then he heard the bed shift as Silver did the same.

 _What did you expect?_ Flint thought bitterly. Had Silver expected him to fuck him? He couldn’t actually want that? Surely he didn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t want Flint to actually perform marital duties, could he?

 

*  *  *

 

The next morning Flint awoke first. Sunlight drifted through the window and he watched it through a haze of sleep, wondering why he felt so comfortable, so warm. For once he had slept completely through the night. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Then the warmth beside him stirred and he remembered.

Silver. That was Silver sleeping soundly by his side, Silver’s thigh pressed against his. Silver’s…cock, clearly still dreaming all on its own.

Flint turned his head ever so slightly, letting his gaze drift down between them. The soft swell of Silver’s cock in his smallclothes mesmerized him. It was just the proximity. Clearly Silver was still asleep and had no idea his cock was rubbing ever so gently against Flint’s thigh.

His hands knotted into fists as Silver exhaled in his sleep, turning his face into the press of Flint’s shoulder. His cock twitched again.

This was hell. Flint stared rigidly at the roof. Any moment Silver would wake and realize and then what...

He had to get out of here before he did something. He reached for the blankets, slipping from between them as quietly as possible.

He dressed quickly and left, leaving Silver there in his bed.

 

*  *  *

 

The morning air was brisk up on deck. Flint was grateful for it as he strode across the deck, looking for Billy. He had one or two things he needed to discuss with him.

He cornered Billy once he found him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Billy looked genuinely puzzled.

“About Silver.” Flint hissed. Now that he was removed from the situation he felt a little calmer but the rage threatened to come back. How dare they put him in that situation, put Silver in that situation?

“What about him?”

“That he’d never fucked a man before.” Flint rested his hands on the railing.

“It…didn’t come up.”” Billy said finally. But his brows knit together and Flint sensed his concern was real. All the same he wasn’t ready to let Billy off the hook that easily.

“Well the next time you try to arrange a wedding you should check something like that.” He turned to go and Billy caught his arm.

“Is he all right?”

“What?”

“Silver? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine.” Flint stalked past him. “Once he’s up, get him back down the galley and get him to work.”

“Aye aye captain.”

Flint glanced over his shoulder but if Billy meant that sarcastically he couldn’t tell. He went up on the quarterdeck to survey matters.

 

 *  *  *

 

Silver woke late, stretching lazily and looking around. Sunlight spilled across the cabin. He was in Captain Flint’s bed in Captain Flint’s cabin. For a moment Silver couldn’t believe it was real and he uttered a helpless laugh. None of this seemed real at all. Not the suggestion of the marriage, not the actual wedding yesterday, not Flint’s hands on his body or his mouth on Silver’s skin, or the way his eyes burned into Silver’s face.

Silver turned over, burying his face in the pillow beside him, breathing in Flint’s scent.

God, _Flint_.

Silver felt himself stirring and hastily got up. That was the last thing he needed now. Getting hard in the captain’s bed. Somehow it felt as though Flint would know if he even dared as much touch himself there.

 

*  *  *

 

When Billy finally saw Silver emerge from the captain’s cabin he couldn’t find a lie in Flint’s words. Silver certainly looked all right, if a little sleepy. He smiled gamely at Billy before heading off to the galley.

Billy sighed. This certainly wasn’t going to be the easiest bargain.

It didn’t help that he caught Silver telling tales about the captain late that afternoon. He noticed a couple of the men clustered around the door to the galley. He stopped on the steps to listen.

“Is he really as good as that?”

“You can’t imagine.” That was Silver’s voice. “You know the way he speaks, like a storm rolling over the sea, the waves churning and the sky rising high. It was like that.”

Billy rolled his eyes. _For the love of god._

He made his footsteps loud as he finished coming down the steps. The men dispersed quickly, Silver turning to go back to work. Billy reached out and caught Silver’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Silver started, staring up at him. “Billy!”

“What the hell do you think you are doing? Telling tales like that about the captain?”

Silver had the decency to look slightly abashed. “I just thought…well, you know.” He grinned sheepishly at Billy. “I thought it would help. That’s all. Truly.”

Billy sighed but let him go. “Don’t let the captain catch you. That’s all I have to say.”

 

*  *  *

 

That night Flint called Billy and Gates into the cabin to witness Silver handing over the final part of the page. Silver had had the better part of the afternoon to write it all down. Which he had done, ensconced in Flint’s cabin, leaving Flint to roam the deck restlessly, waiting.

They looked it over while Silver paced restlessly.

“Looks good to me.” Gates said. Billy nodded in agreement. Flint checked it again. It aligned with the course in his charts and finally he gave a quick nod as well. A smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, and he was unable to hold it back entirely.

 _When he wasn’t threatening your life_ , Silver thought, _Flint was terribly handsome_. He thought back to what he had said that morning to the men. It was true. Flint was like a thunderstorm. He hesitated on the edge of their group, wondering what would happen next.

“We should celebrate.” Flint said. He reached for the bottle rum and grabbed the tin cups. Enough for Silver to join them as well. He was undeniably part of this, even though Flint still resented that.

“To the Urca.” Gates raised his cup.

“To the Urca.” They echoed and across the desk Flint met Silver’s gaze. For a moment neither of them looked away and then Gates delicately cleared his throat and Flint’s eyes slid to him.

“Think it’s time we let you two retire for the night.”

“Yeah, we have some duties to see to.” Billy started heading for the door.

“There’s no need.” Flint began but they were already gone. As soon as the door closed he remembered what he meant to tell Billy to do.

“Damnit.”

“What?”

“I forgot to have Billy fetch a hammock.” He didn’t look at Silver.

 

*  *  *

 

“Stop moving.” Flint didn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry.” Silver muttered, but shifted again nonetheless.

He was shirtless, stripped down to his underclothes once more. Flint was still wearing his shirt but after a few more moments of lying there sweating, he gave in and sat up, stripping it off and tossing it aside before laying back down.

The lantern was burned all the way down. He could no longer see Silver even if he looked at him, which he most definitely wasn’t doing.

Silver let out a sigh and moved again, his knee bumping Flint’s.

 “For the love of.”

“Sorry.”

Flint turned on his side, his back to him. He was so tired of this already and it was only the second day. How was he supposed to make it till they reached the gold?

 

*  *  *

 

The men were definitely smiling at him more. Flint noticed it when he was walking around the deck. So at least marrying Silver had done some good after all. He mentioned it to Billy who just rolled his eyes.

“That’s definitely to do with Silver.”

“What?”

“He’s been telling tales about your prowess.”

_“What?”_

“Just a bit. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Billy shrugged and went about his way.

Flint couldn’t believe it. Silver was going around telling tales about their antics in bed and they’d not even touched since their wedding day. In fact every night was spent doing just the opposite.

Flint _tried_ not to think about how every single night he had spent lying awake ever since the wedding. Every single night. It was nearly impossible to fall asleep with Silver lying next to him. Even the knowledge that he was barely a foot away made the sweat gather on Flint’s skin. Then once he was asleep it was almost worse. No matter what he did, slept on his side or his back, determinedly, pointedly not facing Silver, he woke to find the man pressed up against him somehow. Silver’s arms resting over his chest, his legs draped over Flint’s. How did he manage this when it was too warm to barely breathe near each other?

Nearly every morning Silver was aroused, and more than once Flint found himself in the same condition. On the rare occasions that he wasn’t, even glancing at Silver’s barely covered groin did the trick and his own shaft perked right up.

Flint couldn’t understand it. He’d gone _years_ without being bothered by the most banal, benign of arousals. The morning problem, as he came to think of it, was most likely only due to the proximity of Silver’s body, though he hated to admit and hated his own body for being so weak, and Silver for being the one to provoke it.

Never mind the fact that they were married now, as Gates pointed out, whenever Flint voiced his annoyance at Silver’s presence in his bed.

“What seems to be the problem now?” Gates looked slightly weary of the discussion by now.

“And he…snores.” Flint finished at last.

“Oh dear.” Gates sighed. “Well, plenty of married folk have had to put up with that.”

Married. Flint still couldn’t get over it. Whatever Gates said, whatever Billy said, however temporary it is, it still counted that he said those words, that he made those vows, even to Silver, for the reasons he did. It still counted for something.

That morning he had left the sleeping figure of Silver there in the bed (he’d given up on the hammock by then, it would be too noticeable) and gone to the window to stare restlessly at the sea. How much longer would this take? He had tried to be prepared for this situation in theory; in reality it was utterly different. Having Silver there, sleeping beside him, as natural as breathing, was another thing altogether. Flint didn’t want to know the soft sounds Silver murmured in his sleep. He wanted no intimate knowledge of Silver’s body. He wanted no knowledge of Silver at all.

 

 *  *  *

 

From time to time Silver thought of Miranda back in her cottage. What would she make of this bargain, he wondered? What had Flint told her, had he told her any of it?

As the days passed he’d gained the impression that it wasn’t just him that Flint had a problem with, though obviously he was a lot of it, but rather it was the whole idea of marriage that set Flint’s teeth on edge. Silver was just caught up in it. Was it because of Miranda that Flint had objections to being married? It seemed the most likely reason, but Silver wasn’t entirely convinced that was the whole of it.  Once or twice he’d thought of asking Flint, but every time his courage failed him and he left it alone.

 

*  *  *

 

“I never thought of the captain like that, but now.” There was an impressed sort of chuckle. “Imagine him giving it to you like that, eh? Those thighs crushing you? _Christ_.”

“Mind you don’t talk about him like that. Silver’s allowed, cause they're married and all, but not you.”

Flint’s ears burned as the crew members passed by. What the devil had Silver told them? He hadn’t thought much of it when Billy had told him at first, too focused on his own trials with Silver, but somehow hearing the crew speak about them was different. He kept his face averted until they were gone.

Somehow he managed to wait until they were alone in the cabin that night to confront Silver about the tales that were apparently going around the ship.

“We need to talk.” Flint shut the door.

Silver looked up. “What is it?”

“You were telling the crew about.” Flint paused, and then said, “What happens in our cabin.” He paused again, realizing what he had said and hoping Silver hadn’t noticed.

Silver cringed. “They were interested and it seemed...”

Flint shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. And if I hear that you’ve been talking again like that, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sorry.” Silver blurted out. “I just knew how you wanted to get the crew behind you and well,” he shrugged. “They seem to like me so…”

“And you thought making up fictitious tales about how we fuck was the way to do that?”

Silver shrugged again. “Who doesn’t enjoy a good tale about fucking?”

Flint just took his place at his desk, rubbing his temples wearily while Silver started getting undressed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d never…when you agreed to this?”  Flint asked. It kept nagging at him. He wasn’t sure what he would have done, but there had to have been something different he could do.

Silver paused with his shirt halfway off his head and then lowered it. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important.” Flint repeated, incredulously. “What?” Surely a matter of that sort of intimacy mattered when you were getting married, even in such a situation as this.

“Well, there was only going to be the one time. It’s not like you were expecting me to join you in bed every night, for anything other than sleep and appearances.” He added hastily.

“So what you’re telling me is that if I had expected to fuck you every night, you’d have mentioned the little fact that you were a virgin?” Flint wasn’t sure he believed his ears.

Silver hesitated. “Well, possibly. I mean, maybe.” He went over and sat on the side of the bed, watching as Flint finally started to get undressed as well.

“Possibly.” Flint just kept repeating his words. “Are you shitting me?”

“Well, firstly, you didn’t seem as though you wanted that.” Silver shifted uncomfortably. “We’re both in this for mutual needs and neither of them were the physical sort.”

“You wanted me to suck your cock.” Flint was driven to point this out mercilessly. He rose to turn down the lantern, casting the cabin in a low light and turned to see Silver still watching him.

Silver winced. “Look, at the time I fully expected you to fuck me on that deck. And you could have.” He looked up at Flint with open confusion and curiosity. “Still waiting for an understandable reason as to why you didn’t, frankly.”

“I told you.” Flint said as he motioned for Silver to slide over and make room, waiting until he did to stretch out on the bed beside him. “I hold no interest in fucking you. It was only needed to consummate the ceremony and when you mentioned…well, it simply seemed unnecessary.”

“Right.” Silver seemed skeptical, and then, “So you don’t want me to suck your cock in return then?”

“Why, have you done that?”

“Yes.” Silver said after a moment, but nothing more than that. The bed seemed impossibly small. He was aware of the exact distance between Flint and himself, how easy it would be to close it.

“Not tonight.” Flint said at last and rolled over on his side, back to Silver.

 

                                                                                                                                                    *  *  *

 

Every night was spent like that, sleeping and sweating side by side. Every morning Flint was glad to escape from his cabin, a place that had formerly been a sanctuary to him. But then the days grew hotter as well and there was no escape.

Flint was checking they were still on course when he noticed Silver carrying a bucket of slops up to toss over the side of the ship. Silver had stripped down to just his breeches as he worked in the galley. He stood there a moment, letting the breeze cool him, cooling his heated skin. It was sweltering below deck and he was glad of the fresh air.

Flint’s hand landed harshly on his shoulder and Silver jumped, staring up at him in surprise.

Flint’s hand paused like it hadn’t realized he was shirtless, or maybe he hadn’t realized the warmth of Silver’s skin. The fingertips dug into his flesh slightly and Silver’s breath hitched.

“Put your fucking shirt on.” Flint hissed.

Silver blinked at him surprise. “What?”

“I gave you an order.”

“It’s hot as Hades below deck. No one is wearing a fucking shirt.” Silver hissed back at him. “Why the fuck should I?”

“No one else is married to the captain.” Flint ground out. Did he really have to explain to Silver? Did he not see the way the crew was gawping at him, their eyes feasting upon his nakedness?

“What’s that matter?” Silver was clearly confused as to what that had to do with him not wearing a shirt.

Flint’s hand fell away from his shoulder before he was tempted to raise it to Silver’s neck. “I’ve seen the men looking at you.”

“So what? Let them look.” Silver was still confused.

Flint’s jaw just tightened. “I gave you an order, now follow it.”

“And if I don’t?” Silver challenged. This was ridiculous. What was just as ridiculous was the realization of _why_ Flint was insisting on this, why he would bother. And then it came to him like a crack of thunder striking a calm sea. “Fuck, you’re jealous!”

Flint took half a step back, like the words hit him in the chest. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s why the men looking at me bothers you.” Silver grinned, unable to hide the humor he found in this situation. “You’re jealous.”

“If you don’t put a shirt on, there will be consequences later.” Flint told him softly before stalking away.

Silver just shook his head. Flint was truly jealous. What did that even mean between them? Did it mean he wanted to actually fuck? Silver had been dreaming of it ever since they started this ridiculous farce. He desperately wanted Flint’s hands on him; but it didn’t mean anything if Flint didn’t want him too.

He dreamed of Flint fucking him. He could hardly stand sleeping beside him. Every night they lay side by side together, sweating in the dark and every morning Flint had pulled away from him, like he couldn’t bear to touch Silver not even by accident.

Silver didn’t put his shirt on for the rest of the day. If it caused a little trouble, well, so what?

 

*  *  *

 

After dinner, though when Flint didn’t come out to eat on deck like the rest of the men, Billy came up to him.

“Captain wants to see you.”

“Is that right?” Silver glanced at him. “About?”

“He said it was personal.” Billy cocked his head. “He doesn’t look happy.”

“Does he ever?” Silver muttered.

Billy’s hand rested on his shoulder. “We did this for a reason, remember.” He said softly. “Because it was best for the crew.”

Silver shrugged him off. “Maybe you did it because it was best for the crew.” He shot back. “I did it because I was under the impression it was best for me at the time. Now I’m not so sure.” He strode off towards the cabin without another look.

 

*  *  * 

 

Flint was sitting at his desk when Silver entered the cabin and closed the door behind him.

“Captain.”

“Bolt it.” Flint said without looking up.

Silver hesitated and then slid the bolt home. He turned to face Flint who continued reading the book he had open before him for another moment or two until Silver started to fidget.

At last Flint set the book aside and looked at him. “Earlier on deck I gave you an order.”

Silver pursed his mouth, waiting for whatever Flint’s going to say next.

“And you refused to follow it.”

 _Because it was fucking ridiculous._ Silver kept his mouth shut against that response, knowing just how unwise it is. But he didn’t have another answer for Flint.

Flint stood decisively. “Take down your breeches and bend over the desk.”

“What?” Silver stared at him openmouthed.

“I just gave you another order and you’re already objecting again?” Flint raised an eyebrow. “Is that really wise?”

Silver swallowed. He had a feeling Billy was lurking all too closely by, ready to back Flint up should he need it. He didn’t, of course. Contrary to Flint’s opinion, he wasn’t a complete idiot.

He set his jaw and stalked towards the desk. Flint watched impassively as he pulled his belt free, dropping to the floor before pulling at his breeches and shoving them down to his thighs.

Flint walked around the desk behind him and Silver tensed. It was all too reminiscent of that day on deck when he thought Flint was going to fuck him. Except this time they were alone and Flint wasn’t constrained by any audience or their expectations. His cock twitched in his smallclothes. Flint could do anything at all to him and he’d simply have to take it.

Flint picked up the belt. “How many strokes do you think you deserve for disobeying your captain?”

“You’re truly going to punish me for this?” Silver raised an eyebrow.

“For disobeying your captain’s orders, yes.”

Silver gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath.

“Something you would like to say?” Flint inquired civilly.

“Nothing my captain wants to hear.” Silver said slightly louder.

Flint scowled, winding the tail end of the belt around his first to get a better grip. “Well, how many strokes?”

Silver’s hands clenched tightly on the desk. “Why doesn’t my _captain_ tell me since he seems to have already decided my fate?”

“Ten it is then.” Flint said curtly. He’d been prepared to give Silver less if he’d showed the slightest bit of contrition over his behavior, but naturally that was too much to ask for.

He gazed at him and then simply brought the belt quickly down across Silver’s rump. He watched Silver’s entire body jerk with surprise.

“Fuck.” Silver yelped.

Flint stopped. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“No.” Silver resolutely kept his gaze on the opposite wall. His ass tingled with the force of the blow, sending shock waves all down his thighs and unfortunately, his body had already made up its mind. It’s no longer scared by the prospect of this; oh no, it had decided to become aroused instead.

He was just grateful he at least had his underclothes to hide this.

Flint brought the belt down again and Silver’s hips jerked. He tried to contain his noise this time, but it was so hard to do so.

After five blows Flint paused again and Silver allowed himself to dare hope it was over. Instead Flint stepped back to rewind the belt around his hand again. And then he said, “Take down your underclothes.”

Silver looked over his shoulder quickly. Surely he had to be joking. Flint just stood there gazing back at him, his gaze neutral. He wasn’t joking in the slightest and Silver felt a shudder course through him. He looked back down at the desk, then down between his legs where the tip of his cock was pressing brazenly against the front of his underclothes.

“Please.”

Flint just stood there waiting.

At last Silver finally dragged them down and let them fall around his ankles. He closed his eyes and prayed Flint wouldn’t look at him.

 

 *  *  *

 

Silver had been bent over his desk, half naked, all bare bronze skin sweating, those dark curls tumbling over his face, pert ass pushed out and just begging for Flint’s touch.

Flint groaned internally. He hadn’t thought this through when he decided to punish Silver. Here he was, whipping him and he just wanted things he wasn’t supposed to want or even allow himself to want. It wasn’t his place to want Silver.

He brought the belt down again and Silver whimpered again.

 _Fuck_.

Now he was completely naked and the welts were slowly rising on his ass and Flint was mesmerized. He let the belt fall again and Silver gasped, gripping the desk. His body was trembling with the aftershock. And Flint half reached out to steady him, but there was nowhere to touch that on Silver that wasn’t sweaty glistening skin and he _couldn’t_. Because if he allowed himself to touch Silver now, he’d never want to stop.

So he held back and struck Silver again with the belt, even harder this time.

Silver was doing his best but his breath was coming faster. And Flint let the final two blows fall quickly so it would be finished and he could end this.

“There.” His own voice sounded foreign to his ears.

Silver grabbed at his underclothes and briefs, pulling them up hurriedly. When he turned around Flint saw that Silver’s cheeks were red and his eyes glossy and Flint’s gaze couldn’t help drifting down his front to his breeches and he caught his breath at the discovery there.

Silver’s hands darted in front of his groin. “Am I dismissed, captain?”

“You’re….” Flint licked his lips. He couldn’t say it. _Aroused._ Silver was fucking aroused, from his belt, from his actions.

Silver’s face burned. “Am I dismissed or not?”

Flint hesitated. “Yes.” He said finally because he couldn’t resist the desperation in Silver’s eyes, pleading to be allowed out of this. Silver moved and then stopped, his face still burning as he waited, holding his breeches up and Flint finally realized what he was waiting for and held out the belt.

Silver took it, and tried to fasten it without his breeches falling down. All the same Flint briefly got another look at the swollen cock between his thighs.

He turned his back until Silver was gone and he heard the sound of the door. Why had he done that? What had he hoped to accomplish there?

At the back of his mind he heard Silver’s voice again.

_You’re jealous._

Flint bit back a groan as he rested his hands on his desk. What was he supposed to do? Now that Silver had bolted from the room, breeches barely clinging to his thighs. At least he had left, but he’d still have to come back here to sleep. Flint groaned again, but this was a different cause.  Or rather, was it? Frustration was definitely the cause and frustrations was practically Silver’s name.

 

*  *  *

 

Silver practically ran out of the cabin and then halted by the railing. Where was he supposed to go? It was nearly evening. The captain’s cabin was his quarters now. He stared down at the bulge in his breeches with agonizingly bitterness. If only he had obeyed Flint before, if only his cock hadn’t betrayed him so blatantly. Flint had to have noticed. There was little chance he hadn’t.

Silver stood there a while, waiting for his cock to calm down.

Finally he was relatively certain his cock had subsided enough that he could return to the cabin. Not that he wanted to. Christ, he wished he’d never entered into this bargain. How could he continue sleeping beside Flint and thinking of what he had done.

It had been hard enough before this and now. His hands were shaking.

 

 *  *  *

 

Silver didn’t come back to the cabin that night and by the next morning Flint could tell the crew was aware that something had happened. Whether Silver had told them or they had simply guessed something along the lines of what had occurred in the cabin he couldn’t tell.

“They know there’s been a quarrel between you.” Billy confirmed when he came to report. “Silver’s not talking, at least, not yet.”

“I thought this was supposed to keep up morale.” Flint complained.

“Well, you’ve barely put in any effort into it.” Billy pointed out. “And now you did this?”

“I married him for fuck’s sake.” Flint snarled. “What more do they want from me?”

He didn’t want to think about that first day, the way Silver’s thighs had clenched around him, welcoming him home, or how he had dared kiss Flint, to those raucous cheers. He didn’t want to think about how Silver had reacted when he punished him. He didn’t want to think about how every night Silver was there, right beside him in bed, somehow remote and intangible as an illusion. Flint didn’t want to think about _any_ of it. He couldn’t allow himself to have Silver, solely because he wanted him. They had made a deal, nothing more. It wasn’t a real marriage where he could expect anything in return.

 

 *  *  *

 

That evening Flint paced in the cabin, waiting. Silver had avoided him as best as he could since yesterday. Neither of them wanted to admit what happened after Flint had whipped him, but they had to do something. They couldn’t simply act as though nothing had ever happened, though Flint desperately wanted to try. He simply couldn’t address the fact that Silver was aroused by it, by him. Because if he faced that… Flint didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t think about Silver’s body responding under his belt. He swallowed tightly, unable to think of anything else.

The sound of the door roused him from his thoughts.

Silver slunk inside the cabin without looking at him.

Flint averted his gaze and then immediately realized how idiotic it is. “Come here.”

Silver approached the desk warily.

Flint rose, ignoring the way Silver’s body tensed. He got out a bottle of brandy and poured them each a glass, nudging one closer to Silver who took it cautiously.

“To fresh starts.”  Flint said gruffly. They had to make the best of this and they had to move past what had happened yesterday. _Silver’s skin gleaming in the sunlight, his eyes vivid as he looked up at Flint from his desk, his lips half parted as he struggled not to reveal his aroused state._

Flint groaned internally.

Silver eyed him. “Does this mean...what _does_ this mean?”

“It means drink.” Flint was losing patience. That happened a lot with Silver, he’d noticed.

Silver shrugged and took a sip.

Flint sat back against the desk, watching him. He still had no idea what to make of this man who had fallen in with his crew. Was it just the money? The prize of the Urca was enough to make most men do reckless things but was that Silver’s only motivation?

“If this is truly a fresh start,” Silver mused, “Surely we could both benefit from an exchange of information.”

Flint took a sip of brandy. “Go on.” He expected Silver to ask about Miranda, anticipating the question and the defensiveness crawls along his spine, his knuckles tense as he waits.

“What was your first thought when Billy concocted this scheme?”

At that Flint blinked. He debated whether to tell Silver the truth, and then decided why not? “I thought he was mad.” He said frankly.

“You too?” Silver grinned at him and strangely enough Flint found himself grinning back.

They shared the rest of the brandy, talking of how Gates and Billy had come up with this ridiculous scheme and eventually the bottle was empty and they tumbled into bed together.

Silver winced faintly and Flint looked at him.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m sore,” Silver murmured, his eyes closing. “It’ll heal.”

“About…” Flint wasn’t sure what he was going to try to say, or if he should. He gazed at Silver who was already half-asleep beside him. In sleep Silver looked younger, his face guileless.

Flint hesitated, and then slowly reached out a hand to touch a curl clinging to Silver’s face. Silver murmured something in his sleep and Flint swiftly removed his hand.

He settled down on his side, but for the first time he was facing Silver as he fell asleep.

 

*  *  * 

 

In the morning Flint inhaled and got a mouthful of curls. Blearily he opened his eyes to find Silver nestled in his arms. For a moment he froze, not sure what to do next. It felt so natural, the way Silver’s head curled into his shoulder, his breath warming Flint’s skin.

And then Silver turned his head and opened his eyes. Flint stared down at him. He had the strongest desire to tighten his grip on Silver, to lean down and kiss him.

Instead Silver’s eyes widened and he pushed himself up out of Flint’s arms and Flint hurriedly let him go.

 

*  *  *

 

That afternoon after making sure the captain was occupied elsewhere Silver slipped back into the cabin. He’d intended just to take a moment to enjoy being away from everyone else. The crew’s friendly attitude towards him had only increased since they learned of Flint’s punishing Silver for disobeying his order.

“I mean, he’s the captain and you did disobey him.” Muldoon pointed out apologetically, “But still, he’s a jealous bastard, ain’t he?”

That was what it came down to in Silver’s mind. Flint was jealous, though for the life of him, Silver didn’t understand why. If Flint wanted him, all he had to do was make a move. By law they were married. But every night Flint kept his distance and every morning Silver woke as frustrated and restless as the day before.

The thought of Flint being jealous was laughable but at the same time, oddly arousing. Even now, hidden away in the captain’s cabin, just thinking about it, made Silver’s cock swell.

He hesitated and then quickly undid his breeches. He took out his cock and spat on his hand, stroking himself quickly. If he could just get a bit of relief, maybe everything would be better. He intended to get this done with as quickly as possible but images of Flint appeared in his brain regular as clockwork.

_if..._

If Flint had noticed how aroused he was while whipping Silver…if he had come to stand right behind Silver as he tugged those underclothes down, if instead of continuing to whip him, he’d slid his hands over Silver’s flushed backside, squeezing until Silver moaned from his touch.

“You want it.” Not a question from the captain’s lips, but a curt statement of fact, stating the truth that they both knew. Silver wanted it, Flint’s cock, Flint. He wanted Flint, goddamnit and there was no escaping that fact even in the privacy of his own fantasy.

“Yes.” Silver answered and Flint would slowly press himself between his cheeks, not pushing inside yet, not just yet, because he’d want to make Silver beg for him to fuck him. He’d want to hear just how much Silver wanted it. He would rub his cock maddeningly between Silver’s cheeks, teasing him until Silver gave in and gave him what he wanted.

Silver’s head fell back with a groan. God, if only this were real, if only this were truly happening. If only Flint were really here.

The sound of the cabin door opening didn’t register at first. Nor the sound of the footsteps entering the cabin. It wasn’t until Flint coughed that Silver’s eyes flew open.

Flint stood there with a pained look on his face as he surveyed the scene in front of him. The heat rushed over Silver’s face, burning him alive. His cock throbbed shamelessly, apparently enjoying the fact of being discovered by Flint. Silver opened his mouth to offer some excuse and there was nothing, nothing came to mind, nothing he could say.

Flint cleared his throat. “When you’re finished,” he began and then grimaced slightly as he heard what he’d just said. “just…clean up the mess.”

He turned and walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Silver stared at the door. Of all things, that was not the response he had expected. That was practically permission to keep going. And as embarrassed as he was, as much as he wanted to flee Flint’s cabin as quickly as possible, it would be easier if he were well, _finished._

He started stroking again, thinking of how Flint had looked at him. Had his gaze lingered on Silver’s cock? Had he imagined what it would be like to touch him?

A groan stuttered across Silver’s lips. He was so close and yet he needed more.

His gaze fell upon the captain’s lamp, unlit at this time of day. There was oil there. Oil Flint filled himself, to read long into the night. Stealthily, Silver slid all the way out of his breeches and dashed half nude over to the desk, slicking his fingers.

He started to return to where he had been, but some bold instinct propelled him over to the bed instead, the bed Flint and he shared every night. There he stretched himself out, spreading his legs. His right hand went back around his cock, whereas his left, oil slicked and ready, he moved between his legs to tease his rim.

Oh god, if Flint came back and found him now. He would think Silver utterly wanton, practically offering himself like this. Silver’s fingers moved feverishly as he imagined it was Flint touching him, Flint preparing him to finally, finally, _finally_ fuck him for real. Letting his thick cock press inside Silver, filling him until Silver couldn’t take anymore. Flint would move slowly at first and then he’d start to lose control, his powerful frame pressing Silver down into the mattress as he fucked him harder and harder.

Silver gasped, his middle finger sliding seamlessly inside himself, aroused and ready. He rocked his body harder, clenching down on his finger, wishing it was Flint inside him, but when he came at last, it was by his own hands with only his daydreams for company.

Silver sighed and started to wipe his hand on the mattress then froze. It would be bad enough if Flint guessed what he’d done in their bed, but actually finding evidence? That would be the end of Silver.

Instead he rose and walked, a trifle unsteadily, over to the basin where he washed his hands and then, between his legs, trying to clean the oil from himself as best as he could. He wanted there to be no traces of this interlude left.

Still the scent of the oil lingered, haunting him for the rest of the day.

 

 *  *  *

 

This was getting out of hand. That was the whole problem. Flint rubbed wearily at his eyes. The cabin was dark. Silver’s been asleep ever since his head hit the pillow. Flint on the other hand, has been able to even think of sleep.

Silver, daring to stroke himself right there in Flint’s cabin. And, judging by how long he took to emerge from the cabin, daring to actually finish the job as well.

Flint rested his arm above his head. He was tired enough tonight, or the night was too warm, or any other excuse he needed, but there was nothing distracting him from thinking of how Silver looked when he opened the door.

His head had been thrown back, his chest heaving as he worked his cock. His eyes had been closed, utterly lost, and his neck was utterly bare, curved like a perfect bow as he leaned back against the chest.

Flint exhaled softly. His hand slid down the front of his underclothes, squeezing his cock. It responded instantly and he waited a moment, wondering if Silver was aware at all of what he was doing. But there was no sound from the other side of the bed and slowly Flint inched his hand down his drawers.

His cock swelled immediately, like it had only been waiting for him to succumb to this temptation. He moved quickly, wanting this to be finished with as quickly as possible, but there was no escaping thinking about Silver, his utter shamelessness, the way he looked at Flint, the utter invitation of his every gesture, every look. It was like he was waiting for something, something Flint wasn’t sure.

There was a faint squeak as the mattress shifted and Silver rolled over onto his back.

Flint’s breath stuttered in his chest, but the thought of Silver lying there awake, listening to him touch himself, sent such a wave of heat through his body, he couldn’t hold back. his cock throbbed helplessly in his fist, shooting heatedly against the front of his drawers.

He lay there, unable to move or speak. Silver remained silent, but Flint felt his awareness in every bone in his body. He wanted to get up and clean off himself off, but he didn’t dare move until finally he was certain Silver was asleep again.

 

*  *  * 

 

The closer they got to the gold Silver didn’t know what to do. Now that he had written the final page down, Silver wasn’t sure of where he and Flint stood anymore. Not after the punishment in Flint’s cabin and certainly not after the morning where he had awoken in Flint’s arms. Even after the night where Flint had definitely stroked himself right there next to Silver, somehow Flint’s interest seemed removed from him. He was purely focused on figuring out how to get the gold and nothing else.

When Silver walked into the cabin, Flint didn’t look up but Gates gave him a look.

“You want him in here for this?” Now that Silver had done his part, Gates wasn’t sure Silver needed to be part of this. The entire scheme had not gone entirely to plan, Gates had to admit that, and while he knew that mostly it was Flint’s fault, part of him was disappointed in Silver all the same.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Silver muttered at the same time as Flint said, “Where am I supposed to send him?”

They glared at each other and Gates rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Flint said dismissively. “When we get back to Nassau with the gold, I’m leaving him ashore.” He hadn’t told Silver this yet of course, but it made the most sense to his way of thinking. It would be easier once Silver was off the ship.

“What?” Silver stared at him.

Even Gates looked a little surprised at this new information. “Is that right?”

Flint nodded.

“Why would you leave me ashore?” Silver said. “I’ve been nothing but helpful to you.”

“You’re not a pirate.” Flint pointed at him. “And we already have a cook. And besides, it’s customary to leave one’s spouse ashore.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gates heading towards the door, having clearly decided that this situation was not worth his time.

“I’m part of your fucking crew.” Silver sputtered. “That was the deal. That’s why we got married in the first place. ” He couldn’t believe this shit.

“We got married so you would surrender the page.” Flint sneered. “I don’t need you at my side anymore, I never did.”

Hurt fluttered in Silver’s eyes and Flint almost wished he could take the words back, but he couldn’t.

“You can’t just leave me ashore.” Silver protested. “Please, Flint.”

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Flint snarled. “I can’t have you aboard this ship. You’re nothing but a distraction.” He caught his lip, biting down hard before he could say anything else.

“A distraction.” Silver stared at him incredulously. “I could have been a real partner to you. I still could be.” He looked down, swallowing tightly. “But if that’s really all you think. Fine.” He started heading for the door and then paused. “I’ll leave it to you to explain to the crew exactly why I’m being put ashore. I’m sure that will be a simple matter.”

He went out and slammed the door.

“Shit.” Flint groaned. He had let his mind run away with him. It had seemed the perfectly solution. Now though, he actually considered it. Billy had said this was temporary and Flint had clung to that statement as a life raft. It felt like he was stranded here with Silver, not knowing what the right move was.

He went to the doorway, searching for Billy, jerking his head at him to come to the cabin when Billy caught sight of him.

“Billy, get in here.” He left the door and stormed over to his desk.

Billy came in, closing the door behind him. “What’s the matter? I just saw Silver looking like you’d kicked him.” He gave Flint a look. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No.” Flint said sullenly. “I didn’t kick him.” He sighed. “I told Silver I was going to leave him ashore when we got back to Nassau.”

“What?” Billy stared at him. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He’s given me the page. We’re nearly to the gold. Why would I keep him aboard after that?”

“Because that was the whole deal.” Billy rested his arms on the desk. “Once we get the gold then you can dissolve the marriage amicably. We discussed this.”

“It’s not a marriage!” Flint howled. “He’s a little shithead liar of a thief. And all he does is ignore my orders and cause trouble with the crew.”

_And I can’t stop thinking about how it felt to have him press back against me, and I want to remember that kiss, I can’t forget it, nor the heat of his lips._

_How aroused Silver grew when I beat him._

_How it felt when I’m sleeping next to him._

Flint bit his lip at that memory.

Billy raised an eyebrow. “This is all going to be a waste if you just chuck him ashore the very moment we land.”

“Lots of people leave their spouses ashore.”

“Not people who got married solely to gain their crew’s trust and respect again.” Billy said. “What’s the point in that event?”

Flint sighed. “What the fuck am I supposed to do then?” He reached for his rum bottle.

“I suggest you bring him back in here and apologize and tell him you’re not going to put him ashore.”

Flint scowled.

“If you really want to make an effort,” Billy said offhandedly. “You could offer to make it up to him.”

“What?”

“Well, you seemed to have some sort of…” Billy gestured. “Thing going during the ceremony.”

“I’ll think about it.”

 

 *  *  *

 

Flint did _not_ invite Silver in to his cabin to make it up to him. He left matters where they were as they neared the coordinates. He could decide what to do with Silver after they got the gold.

 

 *  *  *

 

There was nothing there. The course Silver had led them to, the coordinates that Flint had been so sure of, had led to nothing but empty sea. There was no sign of the Urca, the prize he had pursued for so long.

“Well, captain?” Dufresne looked at him.

“It’s there.” Flint gripped the railing. It had to be there.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Dufresne turned to the rest of the men. “We’re not going to stand for it.”

“Sails!”

And there was the warship.

Flint felt his gut clench tight in satisfaction. The presence of the warship only meant one thing. The Urca _was_ there. Without meaning to, he looked across the deck for Silver amongst the crew.

The cannons fired. Dufresne be damned, but that argument had cost them and the ship shattered.

Flint drifted in the cold water, barely aware of anything and then someone cradled him to his chest, keeping him close. He felt as though he were already dead, but the warmth holding him still, keeping him alive, refused to let him surrender to the depths.

 

*  *  *

 

When he woke on the beach, his lips were dry and parched. The sunlight made his head ache. Flint winced and pushed himself up. Silver sat beside him, gazing at the hull of the Walrus.

“Why am I alive?”

 

*  *  *

 

As it turned out, the gold was there. It was all there, right on that beach. Not exactly how Flint had thought it would be, but there nonetheless.

He looked at Silver who looked back at him. None of this was exactly like he had thought, but here they were all the same.

 

*  *  *

 

Dufresne had gathered the men together and was talking to them. “We’re going to vote. We’re going to pick a captain who will look after the best interests of this crew, and not use it for his own selfish interests.”

“The gold is right there.” Flint pointed out. “I wasn’t wrong about that. I am the one who brought you here and I am the right one to lead you while we achieve our goals.”

“So prove it,” Dufresne sneered. “Prove you’re still worth being our captain.”

Flint took a breath. “We can still get the gold, even if it’s not today.”

Dufresne glared at him, turning to look at the crew listening. “Is this man truly capable of being the captain we deserve?”

“Are you seriously arguing that any one of you could have done better?”

Flint turned to stare at the speaker behind him. It was Silver. Of course it was Silver, who else would dare speak up at a moment like this when they were better suited to keeping their damn mouth shut.

“Any of you?” Silver stared at the crew who all shifted uncomfortably. “He’s the one who knew where the gold was, and as he said, it’s right there. The warship was proof of that, inconvenient as it may be.”

“Are you saying he knows what to do next?” Dufresne demanded.

“Of course he does.” Silver said confidently. “Simply ask him.”

Flint shot him a look but it was true. He did have a plan. To take the fucking warship. The fact that Silver had aided him in his goal was frustrating. There was more to Silver than he knew, but he didn’t want that knowledge in his brain, worming its way intimately deep.

 

*  *  *

 

_When you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, who do you imagine it was that dragged you onto that beach?_

 

*  *  *

 

Flint spread his thighs, weighing the sturdiness of the chair he was bound to, the men watching them, the number of weapons within reach. If he could only get free. He dared not look at Silver. They had been so close to their goal and now they were caught. Why, oh why, had he agreed to Silver being the one to accompany him onto the ship?

The sailor spoke and Flint barely paid attention, too busy trying to think of a way out.

And then, to his horror, Silver opened his mouth.

 

 *  *  *

 

Afterwards when Dufresne tried to rally the crew back to his side, the men were having none of it. They circled Silver like a conquering king, because even though it had been Flint’s plan to take the warship and Flint’s plan that had brought it about, it was Silver that they had come for. Flint recognized that fact. It astounded him, it impressed him. He should have been furious with Silver, but somehow he wasn’t, well, not entirely. That knowledge that Silver had been the one to save his life had left him with strange, conflicting emotions.

Billy stood beside him on the quarterdeck, watching Silver among the crew. “He’s clever.”

“That’s an understatement.” Flint muttered.

“And he’s gaining even more sway with the crew.” Billy pointed out. “If you don’t trust him, or want him, then by all means, continue with the plan to put him ashore when we reach Nassau.”

“But?” Flint said after a moment when Billy had said nothing more. “I assume there is a but somewhere in there.”

“But.” Billy added. “Have you even considered the strength in a true partnership between the two of you? What that would mean for the ship? For the crew?”

Flint gave him a look. “Have you considered the risk in letting a man like Silver have any sort of real control here?” What the devil would Silver do with that if he had it?

“All I’m saying is few men are lucky enough to find someone who matches them in life.” Billy shrugged. “You would appear to be one of the few.”

He turned and made his way down the steps just as Silver came up them, giving Billy an amiable nod.

Flint ignored him at first as Silver moved to stand beside him.

“That went well, I think.”

“You’re unsure?” They were standing on the quarterdeck of the warship. It was theirs. Somehow, against the odds, they’d succeeded.

“I’d have said definitely if not for the fact that you look like we’re still in danger of being tossed overboard by Dufresne.”

Flint said nothing, stroking his beard. He wasn’t ready to admit to Silver just how easy it was for his brain to work in concert with Flint’s.

“You were right.” Silver said after a moment. “If our interests hadn’t been aligned, if it had been worth it to betray you when we were tied down there, I would have done so.”

“And you think it wasn’t? Even with the gold back there on that beach for the taking?”

Silver’s hands gripped the railing. “We’ll get that gold. We both know it. We both want it too much. So no, I don’t think it was worth it to betray you today.”

“And that speech on the beach.” Flint said when Silver had gone silent again, his face darkened by the night. He wanted to know more there, the surety with which Silver had spoken. “You didn’t have to make that.”

“Well we wouldn’t have a warship without it, and there was no way we’re getting the gold without the warship, so.” Silver shrugged again. “Shall we retire for the night?”

For once, Flint nodded in agreement.

They went down to the cabin and Flint closed the door. There was only one bed, a lavish one in the corner. It was big enough to hold both of them. He gestured at it while he went to pour water in the basin to wash the blood from his face.

“We should sleep.”

Silver winced as he pulled his jacket off. “That does sound like the smart thing to do.”

“We’ll need our strength for tomorrow.” Flint said wearily. “Once we return to Nassau we’ll have to rally another crew immediately to return and get the gold.” He kept saying _we_. It felt natural.

“Mmm.” Silver said.

Flint fiddled with removing his own shirt. His body ached. He was exhausted. But there was something about the way Silver was looking at him. Something that led him to believe the night wasn’t quite finished with them.

“What?”

“We could sleep.” Silver agreed. “Or...”

“Or?”

“We could fuck.” Silver said as though they had never ever discussed the matter before and that it was the most banal of conversations at the same time.

Technically Silver was right. They could fuck. They were physically capable of it. Flint stroked his beard and said nothing. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge this conversation but it was happening whether he liked it or not.

“What would be the benefit in that?”

 Silver looked at him as though he were mad. “We both release some of that frustration that we both know has been building up within ever since we started this insane gamble. Especially after today. We could have died in the hold. _You_ nearly drowned before that.”

Flint smirked. “So you’re frustrated, are you?”

Silver leaned still further on his desk, the candlelight falling across his bare forearms. “Tell me you’re not.”

Flint wetted his lips. “I’ve lived long enough to know a man won’t die merely because he’s frustrated.”

 “Perhaps not, but he could definitely ease the situation if he put his mind to it.” Silver pointed out.

 “And again, is there a benefit to it other than relieving frustration?” Flint fixed him with his stare.

“It would simply become a marriage of convenience in more ways than one.” Silver’s eyes searched his face, his gaze lingering on Flint’s mouth like he was remembering the kiss on their wedding day.

Flint lifted his head slowly, surveying him. “Go on.”

“We made this bargain to regain your good standing with the crew and for me to enlarge my share of the Urca. Neither of those goals will be put aside if we want to alter the terms temporarily.” Silver leaned forward. “You want to get off, I want to get off. What’s the harm in doing it together?”

“Enough.” Flint said abruptly. He should have known Silver would suggest this.

He paused, thinking of a hundred reasons why he should say no to this.

Instead he looked at Silver. “Tell me one thing.”

“Ask me.”

“Why did you save me?”

That Silver hadn’t expected. “It was to our mutual advantage to keep you alive.” Flint placed a hand on his arm and his words fell away

“ _Why_ did you save me?” Flint whispered it this time, his hand sliding further down Silver’s arm, gripping his wrist, like he was afraid Silver might try to wriggle free of the question somehow. He needed to know the truth, to hear it from Silver’s lips.

“Because…I couldn’t let you die.”  The words were soft and honest and Silver couldn’t look him in the eye as he admitted it.

So Flint had to reach for his chin, tilting his face up so Silver’s gaze met his. “For this night only.”

Silver nodded.

“Tomorrow our bargain stands.” Flint said steadily. “But just for tonight…”

“Just for tonight.” Silver breathed and Flint grasped his jaw, kissing him roughly, then letting it ease into something softer. He wanted more, he wanted Silver, whatever excuse allowed him that, just for tonight, he wanted that.

He had slept beside Silver so many times aboard the Walrus. But it was here, aboard the warship that he divested Silver of his clothes, here that his hands slid over Silver’s naked body and here that Silver’s lips met his again and again, the hunger rising within them with each kiss.

Flint winced as Silver bumped into his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Silver drew back, looking at him with concern. “Should I stop?”

Flint merely shook his head. “Take it slow.” And then, he looked at Silver, remembering. “Are you sure you want this? I mean, you’ve never.”

“I’ve dreamt of nothing else for weeks.” Silver reached for him, kissing him with starving lips.

It was nothing like Flint had thought it would be, not that he knew what it would be like with Silver. He hadn’t allowed himself to dream of it, not fully.

It was so much _more._ His hands fit to Silver’s, clasping each other as their bodies moved in tandem together. Silver’s body matched his as well as his mind, stirring and astounding Flint with every touch.

“Slowly.” Flint urged him as Silver straddled his hips a little too quickly. “Slowly.” He understood Silver’s desire for haste, but he knew it would be better if he went slow.

Silver arched his back with a moan, his head falling backwards. He gasped a little as Flint’s hands slid down his hips, catching him.

“Too much?”

“No.” Silver shook his head. “No.” He eased down further, letting Flint sink deeper into him. Flint watched him in silent wonder as he steadied Silver.

And then he rolled them, withdrawing a little to sink back inside Silver, making him shout breathlessly, wrapping his legs around Flint’s hips, urging him on. Flint got a fistful of those curls he’d dreamed about and thrust steadily, remembering how sweet this could be, and rediscovering how it was made new all over again.

In the morning he’d be sore, even more tired. But for now as he gazed down at Silver, memorizing the way Silver’s eyes widened, his lips drew each new breath, the breathless pleasure in his face as Flint moved within him, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered except this night shared between them.

 

*  *  *

 

In the middle of the night Silver woke with his heart in his throat. The dark was still and the bed warm, even if it wasn’t the bed he’d been sleeping in for the last fortnight. It took him a moment to remember they were aboard the warship.

His instincts were to escape, to put as much distance between Flint him as he could. Instead he laid there beside Flint, his chest pressed to Flint’s back, their legs tangled together. Silver breathed in his scent and cursed himself for being a fool.

He had made that suggestion last night thinking that once they had fucked he would be free. How could it live up to his expectations, how could anything live up to his hopes of what it would be like with Flint and yet here he was, caught in Flint’s wake and drowning all the more.

Even once Flint eventually dumped him ashore, now Silver knew he’d wait, in the hopes that Flint would let him remain with the crew. What had become of his dreams? Had he really lost himself so utterly? And for what?

Silver heard the soft sound of Flint’s steady breathing in the darkness and knew, his heart sinking, that it was a true surrender. He’d thought he’d be free, but that hope was nothing save a cosmic joke. He had lost his heart to the pirate captain and there was no one to blame but himself.

 

*  *  *

 

In the morning Flint reached for his clothes. It was the same as all those mornings on the Walrus. Silver slept soundly beside him. Only this time Flint knew intimately how it felt to do that which he had dreamed of the last few weeks. But that had only been last night. It was a new day now. There was no going back from this so they’d have to go forward.

He squared his shoulders and went up on to deck to look towards Nassau as they approached.

 

 *  *  *

 

Miranda was waiting when they reached the shore.

Silver moved along after a brief glance in Miranda’s direction. She noticed, approaching Flint with a sigh. “I see he’s truly become a part of your crew.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Flint said, even though he knew, instead of asking _why are you here?_

Miranda just smiled. “They don’t like me, and we both know it.” She started past him and he gently caught her arm.

She looked up at him in surprise.

“This time it’s not about you.” Or at least it wasn’t all about her, he rationalized. Silver didn’t know the full extent of Flint’s relationship/past with Miranda, and even though he had clearly liked her when Flint left him back at her cottage he was now understandably wary of the woman.

“Oh?” Miranda waited.

He led the way inside the tavern, not wanting to have this conversation out in the open. Not truly wanting to have it at all. “There is something I need to tell you.”

“And there is something I need to tell you.” Miranda returned. “Something that will change the course of our plan.”

Our plan. Flint let these words echo in his mind. Yes, it was still their plan. He still shared that much with Miranda, even if he had betrayed everything else.

“I married Silver.” He said bluntly. There was no other way to say it.

Miranda stared at him in utter surprise. “You did _what_?”

“The crew were...becoming difficult, and it was thought that if I took one of them in marriage, it would help ease matters.” It still sounded ridiculous when he said it to anyone, but it had worked. Until the damn beach.

Miranda studied him. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Flint sighed, shoulders slumping in resigned acceptance at the fact that even if he had wanted to keep this from her, he was unable to. “It was meant to be a bargain only.’ He said slowly.

Miranda’s eyes widened. “You fucked him.”

“ _Miranda.”_

She started laughing helplessly. “Here I thought something truly terrible had happened and you simply fucked a man you married?” Just saying the words aloud made her start laughing again.

Flint grabbed her by the shoulders. “This isn’t something to laugh about. I had no intentions of fucking him. It wasn’t planned, Miranda. You have to believe me.”

“You had no intention of fucking me either when it came to it,” Miranda reminded him, teasingly almost, a smile playing upon her lips at the memory. “And yet, that was precisely what happened.”

“That was different. I was drawn to you from the beginning. I was falling in love.”

“Far be it from me to remind you that one can fuck without falling in love, but have you considered that you might have feelings for your new husband?”

Flint’s hands tightened and then he dropped them hastily. “Don’t be absurd. And don’t call him that.”

“All right.” Miranda said. “Shall we talk of something different? Shall I tell you why I came to town?”

“Yes.” Anything to get his mind off the way Silver had looked when he was mid-thrust inside him.

“There’s been a development on the island.”

Flint listened, half in disbelief and shock, half impressed that Vane had accomplished that, but the name of Abigail Ashe upon Miranda’s lips brought reality sharply back down upon his shoulders.

“You see what this could mean.” Miranda said. “If you returned her safely to her father, he would see that not all the pirates of Nassau are the villains they’ve been made out to be. He would have to understand.”

“Most likely he would simply hang me and be done with it.” Flint told her flatly. He held no allusions about his past friendship with Peter Ashe on this matter. But the idea clung to him. What if Miranda was right?

He slumped in his chair, exhausted by the past and the present. In comparison to this new predicament, his quest for the gold seemed almost simple.

“James.” Miranda said softly. “Is it really as bad as all that?”

“Can’t you understand what I’ve done?” He whispered.

“If you did it because it was necessary, I do understand. But Thomas.” Miranda hesitated and Flint turned his head away. “We both know that if you did this deed while despising Silver…”

“Despised is a strong word.” Flint protested. “I…don’t…”He didn’t know what it was he felt for Silver anymore, but he didn’t despise him.

“Thomas would never have understood that, it’s true. It’s fortunate then that I am the one you’re telling this to.” Miranda said quietly.

Flint flinched.

“It’s all right.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “We will make this all right.”

“How can you say that?”

“We will get Abigail Ashe back.” She said steadily. “And you will see that there is a path ahead of us, a life elsewhere, if you truly want it.”

She paused, drawing something out of the satchel she still held in her hands. “After what happened I thought you might want to keep this with you. Since you clearly don’t trust me with it anymore.” She laid the book upon the table and left.

Flint stared at it helplessly, feeling the overwhelming rush of raw emotions welling up in his gut at the familiar cover. He couldn’t bear this, not now. Not after what he had done.

He swept it up in his hands and went after Miranda.

She was on the porch, her arms tightly folded as she watched the busy street below.

“I should leave him here. I shouldn’t keep him by my side.”

“Why wouldn’t you want him by your side?” Miranda looked at him questioningly.

“You know why.”

“Do not use Thomas’s memory to keep yourself in this misery.” Miranda’s eyes flashed. “He would not wish that of you. He would not _want_ it for you.”

“Miranda.” Flint protested. “He could…stay with you at the cottage.”

“Don’t you dare try to bribe me with the promise of companionship, not now, not after everything we’ve been through. I am coming with you. Abigail doesn’t know you. She needs me there. _You_ need me there and I suspect you need Silver too, so go and talk to him.”

 

 *  *  * 

 

“Her being here is undoing all the good that came out of you marrying Silver in the first place.” Billy pointed out when Flint caught up with him. “She needs to leave.”

“She’s not going anywhere.” Flint said moodily. He’d have to talk to Silver, not just about Miranda but the plan to go after Abigail, all of it, for some reason he didn’t want to. “Get the supplies together and have them taken back to the ship. I need to talk to Silver.”

 

*  *  *

 

He moved to wait on the porch with a bottle of rum, pacing impatiently. All the unrest in Nassau, all the turmoil, it merely echoed what was happening within his own mind. How would Silver react to Miranda’s scheme? How could he make him understand the necessity for it? 

He'd set _Meditations_ down on the table, and from time to time, his gaze was drawn to it, but he didn't allow himself to touch it right now. He'd save that for later. After he had the answer from Silver. 

At last Silver returned to the porch and stood there on the steps. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes.” Flint cleared his throat. He waited for Silver to drew closer, waiting expectantly.

“Mrs. Barlow is going to join us on the ship.”

“Right.”  Silver nodded to himself like he had expected no less. “Where would you like me to go then?”

Flint looked at him uncomprehendingly. “What?”

“Well, you…” Silver paused and sighed. “I’ll find another berth.”

 “Just stay here. “ Flint said. “There’s more.”

Silver raised his eyebrows. “More?”

Flint took a deep breath and started explaining about Abigail Ashe. Silver listened to all of it with an impassive face. As Flint explained he heard himself, how foolish he sounded. How absurd to ask this man to give up that which was the only reason he was on this ship to go along with Flint on this. Silver had no reason to believe him, to trust him on any of this. Nevertheless here Flint stood asking that very thing.

“Please.” Flint said, and then reached out and took Silver’s hand. “Trust me on this. Like you did before.”

Silver eyed him, looking down at his hand in Flint’s. “You want me to trust you as I did, when I asked will it hurt?”

Flint frowned. “Well.”

“Because that was pure gut instinct. Not calculated at all. I had no time to think it through.”

“Well, perhaps not just like that then.” Flint amended. At last he released Silver’s hand, leaning in “I want you to trust me that we _will_ pursue the gold. This is only a delay. I promise you.” There was a note of desperation in his voice and Flint hated himself for it, hated that he needed Silver for this, but more important than that, he wanted Silver at his side for it. It had been so long since he had a true partner. The sense of it was intoxicating, the promise of it was alluring, but the reality of it was what made him want it all the more. He wanted Silver.

The realization of that, the understanding made him freeze, panic-stricken with the weight of it. His gaze fell upon the book there upon the table, and Flint knew he couldn't deny the truth of it anymore, even if it terrified him. 

“All right.” Silver said after a long moment.

Flint turned to him quickly. “Do you mean that?”

 “As long as you come back for me afterwards, when you’re going to get the gold.” Silver nodded.

Flint frowned. “Come back? Where will you be?”

“Ashore in Nassau.” Silver looked at him quizzically. “Or so I thought.”

“No, you’ll be here aboard the ship. With me.” Flint heard the last two words, final and settled and couldn’t take them back. Even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

Silver cocked his head, looking at him.

“If you want.” Flint added hastily.

“If I want. You were the one who wanted to put me ashore. Besides.” Silver paused. “But Mrs. Barlow will be there.”

“So?”

Silver raised his eyebrow.

Flint sighed. He gazed out across the street. There were two ways to this. He could tell Silver it simply didn’t matter, Miranda wouldn’t mind his presence (in truth she’d be delighted, and the understanding of that no longer pained him as it once had) or he could tell him the truth. He debated the matter only a moment.

“You may have guessed that Miranda and I met in London, which is true. We were lovers there, that is also true.” He heard the past tense in own voice, understood it, couldn’t shake it, knowing Silver heard it too. “We were, are, sometimes…” He bit his lip. “It’s complicated.”

He had to explain it all if he wanted Silver to have a semblance of understanding.

“But I…once shared a bed with another man before you.” That wasn’t the way to say it. It sounded like it was nothing at all and it hadn’t been nothing. Thomas hadn’t been _nothing,_ not to him, and not to Miranda.

Silver merely nodded. “I gathered that.”

“It wasn’t just anything. It was more. I loved him.” The raw admission of it stung his own ears. He couldn’t look at Silver, but he had to, he had to know what the other was thinking.

Silver sat there, gazing back at him with those clear blue eyes. “You loved him.” He repeated softly.

Flint nodded. The tightness in his chest eased slightly at hearing his own words repeated back to him in Silver’s matter-of-fact tone. Of course Flint had loved him; it was as simple as that.

“His name was Thomas, and he was Miranda’s husband.”

Understanding lit up in Silver’s eyes. “I see.” He paused, and then asked the question that had stayed with him during their voyage. "And the book?" The book that had been sitting there on the table when Flint had asked him to trust him, that Flint had carried back to the ship with him and now, Silver would have wagered anything, resided upon Flint's desk in the cabin below. 

Flint looked at him. “It was Thomas’s before he gave it to me. He used to read aloud from it.”

“I’m sorry.” Silver offered finally. He understood now, the anger that had consumed Flint when he found Miranda reading it to him.

Flint just shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. And I should have been more considerate of leaving Miranda there alone. I should have realized how it was to be alone. It’s not always good to be alone.” He glanced again at Silver before continuing. 

“Anyway….Miranda and I have been companions, after we lost Thomas, we clung together in our grief. I love no other like her.” He paused. “She understood me better than I did myself, the only one who ever has. Until I met you.”

Silver stared at him.

“You can stay ashore in Nassau and I will return for you as soon as we deliver the girl, but if you choose, if you’d be willing to be at my side, I would be glad of that. I would welcome it, I would welcome you.” Flint paused. “You have a little time to make your own choice. We’re still loading supplies. I’ll be waiting on the warship for your answer.”

He strode down the steps, leaving Silver alone with his thoughts.

 

*  *  *

 

Silver sat back. So much had changed in the last few weeks.  And now Flint was proposing this mad scheme, that they put the gold aside for now and try a foolish attempt to win the pirate-killing governor to their cause.

 _His cause,_ Silver reminded himself. It was Flint’s cause, not his. All the same…the boldness with which Flint struck out as he pursued something, how he saw beyond the day to day and found meaning in the broad future. That astounded Silver, compelling him to look closer.

_We might be friends by then._

He had to know.

 

*  *  *

 

He started for the boat that was heading for the ship. Miranda was standing by it. Silver hesitated and then said.

“May I join you?”

She nodded and they sat together at the prow.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Miranda’s eyes were on the ship beyond them.

Silver glanced at her. “It was only meant to be a temporary bargain.” He murmured, softly so that the sailor rowing them out to the ship didn’t hear. “And then…”

“It became something more.” Miranda glanced at him, seeing the confirmation she sought in his eyes. “Will you stay aboard if he asks you?”

“He has asked me.” Silver admitted, wetting his lips. “Would that bother you?”

“Bother me…” Miranda couldn’t help the laugh escaping her lips. “It would give me great pleasure to know he wasn’t alone, and in truth, I would like to get to know you better myself.”

Silver smiled at her. “I feel the same.”

Miranda held out her hand. “I look forward to it.”

Silver chuckled, shaking it. “Likewise.”

 

*  *  *

 

Once back aboard the warship Silver found Flint up on the quarterdeck, gazing at the fort moodily. “Just one question before I give you my answer.” He took his place besides Flint, clasping his hands together as he followed his gaze.

“Very well.” Flint prepared himself for whatever Silver was about to ask. He had seen Miranda in the boat with him, knew that would have stirred up more questions. His heart beat quicker at the thought that Silver was going to bid him farewell, that this was the last time they would stand side by side together.

“Are we friends now?”

At that, Flint stilled. It felt as though a great force had overtaken him, freezing him there in place, preventing him from speaking. How could Silver ask that now? Surely he knew all that was there between them, all that was ahead of them? But how could he when Flint himself was still coming to accept what it was that had blossomed in the few weeks since they had married.

“I just want to know before.” Silver began.

At that Flint broke free of the internal torment imprisoning him. He turned and kissed Silver, his hands clasping Silver’s face, holding him fiercely so that their mouths were finally joined and he could breathe again. He felt the sharp intake of breath as Silver’s lips parted in surprise. The words on his tongue dying as Flint’s lips stole them away.

His hand cupped the back of Silvers neck, caressing him a moment with his thumb before he drew back. “Do you have to ask?”

“Apparently.” Silver sounded a trifle breathless. He leaned back slightly, surveying Flint. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“Friends. Mates. Partners.” Flint laid his hand over Silver’s. “Whatever you wish to call it. I am yours.” His throat caught at the admission but he kept his gaze steady.

“Partners sounds good.” Silver murmured, and then he leaned up to kiss Flint again.

Flint felt giddy as Silver’s lips touched his. Was this real or another dream? Whichever it was he didn’t want it to end.

“You know,” Silver murmured lazily as their lips parted once more. “We could always send someone to retrieve the gold while we return the girl.”

Flint’s hand tightened on his shirt. “You’re still thinking of that, after I’ve offered you a partnership.” _After I kissed you?_

“We’ll need that gold to fund this scheme no matter what form it takes next.” Silver pointed out. “I am simply being pragmatic here.”

To his surprise Flint just chuckled. “And did you have someone in mind to handle this?”

“As a matter of fact yes.” Silver answered. “It would mean splitting the gold into even more shares of course.” He waited to see how Flint would respond to that.

“The crew wouldn’t be pleased.” Flint frowned faintly.

“I think I could bring them round.” Silver said thoughtfully.

It was true. Whatever skills he held in his tongue, in his powers of persuasion, the crew was his as much as they were Flint’s. Who knew the sort of things they could achieve between the two of them when they were together?

“And you’d be all right with that?” Flint asked after moment.

 _You just offered me a place within your crew, aboard your ship, in your bed_. Silver thought. For once in his life, the idea of that big prize was secondary in his mind. When he looked up at Flint all he could see was the possibility of a true and open future with a man who saw his worth.

“Yes.”

Flint’s hands rose to cup his face once more, seeking his lips as his brow met Silver’s.

“Was that an agreement?”

“Yes.” Flint back, amused. “You can send word to your partner in this venture?”

“You’re not going to ask who it is?”

Flint shook his head. “I trust you.”

In his life so far there had been few words uttered by men that Silver believed in, counted as worth, or kept close to his heart. Those three small words passed from Flint’s lips to his own, warmed him from the inside out until he couldn’t speak for fear of the emotions trembling within him.

There were three other words as well, said later between the two of them, in the privacy of their own cabin. But for now, these more than sufficed. Nassau laid before them, the fort and the girl, all of it waiting, the gold and the future and the horizon ahead.

Partners, then, yes.


End file.
